Some Things are Just Meant to Be
by jkazzie
Summary: Continues where season 2 ended. Zoe Hart is returning to Bluebell from New York a changed woman, but a woman with amends to make and a man to get back.
1. Chapter 1 - Reflections

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The CW is the owner of Hart of Dixie. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

…

Chapter 1 – Reflections

Zoe Hart buckled her seat belt in first class and prepared for landing into Mobile, Alabama, shoving the in-flight magazine she'd been flicking through into the seat pocket in front of her.

After three months living and working in NYC honing her cardiothoracic surgical skills under her father's expert tutelage, she was actually happy to be coming home. To her great surprise she'd missed BlueBell. She'd missed the quirkiness of the town events and its residents; she'd missed her medical practice, her patients and even her business partner Brick Breeland – the country doctor who'd become a mentor to her; and not least, she'd missed the friends she'd made during her two year tenure in small town USA. And yes, she'd realized one drunken night swilling martini's with Gigi, she did indeed _have_ friends in BlueBell, Alabama.

Zoe mentally ticked them off her fingers: Lavon Hayes, the mayor and ex NFL player was her landlord, confidante and best friend – even more so now than Gigi, and she'd known her since kindergarten. Rose Hattenbarger at nearly 16 was her youngest friend, and weirdly, she exhibited more maturity, insight and intuitiveness than most of the adults in Zoe's circle. Zoe was good friends with AnnaBeth Nass, southern belle extraordinaire and best friend to Lemon Breeland, the woman who blamed her for the break-down of her relationship with George Tucker, Zoe's onetime (she sighed) okay, long-time love interest.

With help from her few true friends in BlueBell and those she reconnected with in New York, Zoe had come to the belated conclusion that her professed love for George Tucker was nothing more than an unrequited crush that she never really _wanted_ to pursue anyway, because if she had, she would have taken up with George the minute he'd left Lemon at the alter and offered himself up on a platter. Zoe had turned him down, spouting some nonsense about not wanting to be his rebound girlfriend. Like that was _so much_ worse than being the other woman, even if she'd never done anything more than kiss George Tucker despite what Lemon and the rest of the town believed.

Zoe owed a lot of people an apology for her thoughtless and selfish behavior these past two years – Wade, George, Tansy, Lavon and Lemon. Notwithstanding that first dreadful introduction to Lemon Breeland, Zoe thought that maybe they could have been friends, of sorts, if she hadn't gotten in the middle of Lemon's relationship with George.

Apart from being diametrically opposed in their fashion sense, she and Lemon had a lot in common – what with their parental abandonment issues, and Lemon actually listened and gave good advice when she got off her high horse. Zoe admitted to herself that she should have bowed out gracefully when she found out that George Tucker was engaged to Lemon Breeland.

He hadn't been available and she should have considered the advice of Lavon and Wade and been less friendly with George Tucker until her attraction died a natural death. But, she hadn't. She'd shunned their advice and egotistically befriended George using their New York connection as a reason to interact with him at _every_ possible opportunity. Maybe if she'd made better personal decisions, most of the town wouldn't hate her as much as they did.

Luckily, AnnaBeth Nass, who was currently in a hot and heavy relationship with Lavon didn't hate her and had agreed to collect her from the airport in – she glanced at her diamond encrusted wrist watch; a thirtieth birthday gift from her mother – fifteen minutes. AnnaBeth was great fun, friendly, outgoing and caring, and she subscribed to the girl code that Zoe had conveniently forgotten: you don't go after the love interest of a woman you know, without squaring it with her first! AnnaBeth held fast to that belief for nearly a year, resisting her growing feelings for Lavon (Lemon's ex lover before her engagement to George Tucker) until Lemon relented and gave AnnaBeth her blessing.

Zoe hoped to enlist AnnaBeth's help in finding her southern belle girly side but with a New York edge when she got back to BlueBell. Harley Wilkes was her natural father, a born and bred Alabaman, so Zoe supposed that her own southern roots were buried inside her somewhere – deep, deep, deep, deep down inside her. Her Aunt Maureen thought so, and Zoe wasn't about to argue with Aunt Maureen – she kind of scared Zoe – and it was Aunt Maureen who'd given Zoe her Belle ring and told her she was a BlueBell Belle by birthright – a legacy.

Zoe posited that if she'd spent some quality time with Harley in Alabama from early childhood, her own character might be a little less flawed and she might have been a little more tolerant of southern traditions when she arrived in BlueBell two years earlier. To that end, her Mom, Candice had given her some unasked for advice, since Zoe insisted on staying in BlueBell and making a life for herself.

Candice suggested that fitting in wasn't always about participating in town events, or being a brilliant doctor who involved herself in her patients problems, though that was certainly part of it. She'd speculated that perhaps the high fashion Zoe paraded around in, and her slightly abrasive personality - a natural by-product of Zoe's upbringing in cutthroat New York – was out of place in a small town in the deep south. Maybe, Candice said, Zoe's fashion choices were intimidating and isolating. Southern men liked seeing her legs and body on display in her short, tight, trendy clothes, but the women involved with those men – not so much.

After picking her jaw up from the floor – that had been the last thing Zoe ever expected her mother; the queen of high fashion, Park Avenue apartments and limousines to say – Zoe had gone home to her one bedroom midtown east apartment, poured herself a glass of chilled Sav Blanc and watched two of her favorite chick flicks growing up: Steel Magnolia's and Sweet Home Alabama.

At the end of the double movie marathon and a bottle of wine later, Zoe accepted that there was more to fitting into a small community than just being fashion forward and brilliant at what she did professionally. Maybe that was all she _needed_ to do, to be accepted in New York, but it struck the death knell in BlueBell, Alabama. Zoe then did what all city women did in a crisis – she went shopping for a new wardrobe.

The MD 88 aircraft touched down with a bump and a screech of brakes onto the tarmac of Mobile's regional airport at 7.30 pm on the last Saturday in September, jarring Zoe loose from her reflections. She'd chosen this day of the week to return to Alabama figuring that Wade would be working at the Rammer Jammer and she'd have some time to settle in at her carriage house before she sought him out.

She owed him a response to his declaration of love outside that roadhouse she couldn't even remember the name of, on the road to Atlanta last June. For three months, Zoe had resisted contact with Wade even though he'd pursued her relentlessly. She felt bad about it, but to preserve her emotional sanity – or so she'd told herself before the recent epiphanies about her own character, she'd ignored his text messages, declined his phone calls, deleted his voicemails and trashed his emails – all sixty two of them. She had, however, sent him a text message before leaving New York at lunchtime, telling him she was on her way back and they need to 'talk'.

She switched her phone from flight-mode to receive-mode to download her messages, now that the plane was safely on the ground, but there were no texts or voicemails from Wade. Sighing, Zoe stood up after the plane parked at the gate and the pilot turned off the seatbelt light, announcing to the cabin crew to disarm the doors. There was a flurry of movement as every passenger on the packed flight out of Atlanta collected their belongings from the overhead lockers and hurried to the front of the aircraft, eager to deplane after a long day of travelling. Zoe was third in line at the door, exiting quickly into the gate lounge where AnnaBeth was waiting for her.

Zoe walked right up to her, dropping her bags unceremoniously to pull AnnaBeth into a fierce hug. Releasing her, Zoe stepped back to greet her friend. "Hi, AnnaBeth, it's so great to see you. I've missed you." She smiled widely at the elegant, auburn-haired woman.

AnnaBeth stared at Zoe, looking her up and down with wide eyes of disbelief. "Zoe! My goodness, you look different. What happened to you?" she asked.

Zoe's grin slipped as she looked down at her outfit. "What's wrong with it?" she blurted worriedly, chewing on her lip. "The saleswoman in Atlanta assured me that this dress was perfect."

AnnaBeth fluttered her hands. "No, no, Zoe, your ensemble looks wonderful," she assured hurriedly, "I just never expected you to be wearin' a sundress and a floral one at that. It's so … so … _not_ New York," she said diplomatically, reaching out to squeeze Zoe's wringing hands.

"Phew," Zoe uttered with relief. "I thought for a minute I'd have to fly back to Atlanta and give that saleswoman a piece of my mind. I need this outfit to send the right message to the right person. It's crucial to the success of my plan," Zoe declared frankly. AnnaBeth's eyebrows quirked, as she contemplated the intent behind Zoe's statement.

The other woman bent down to pick up her fashionable purse and her carryon bag stepping away from the crowd of deplaning passengers toward baggage claim and the exit. AnnaBeth followed, jogging a little to catch up to Zoe. She may be tiny, but her legs were long and she powered along the concourse at a New York clip, perfectly balanced in her designer heels.

AnnaBeth admired her friend's silhouette as she followed behind her. Zoe looked different, but at the same time, not. The dress was the biggest surprise since it was a pale yellow, floral patterned sundress with accents of cream and black – and Zoe did _not_ wear sundresses, or the color yellow for that matter, but it really suited the smaller woman. She looked southern chic with a city vibe, and the young woman carried off the style with panache.

She'd teamed the dress with a pair of black and white striped, wedge sling back heels and a black and white designer purse. Zoe's hair was shorter, but still long and she'd let the natural brunette waves frame her face, which was made up with a lighter hand than usual. Zoe had pulled the front section of her hair back over the crown, securing it with a black cloisonné hair clip, completing her fresh, feminine appearance.

AnnaBeth grinned. Wade was gonna lose his mind when he laid eyes on Zoe. He always was a sucker for a beautiful woman in a pretty dress and Zoe fit the bill perfectly. He wouldn't resist for long she determined. He'd told Lavon that he got a text from Zoe saying she was returning to BlueBell, but he also insisted that he didn't care whether she came back or not. She'd ignored his efforts to stay in contact for three months and he was done!

"DONE!" he'd yelled, before storming off, muttering, "She's nothin' but a selfish bitch who could care less what anybody thinks about her, least of all a dumb shit like me!" Lavon's door had rattled in its frame as Wade slammed it behind him.

Lavon had told AnnaBeth one night a few weeks ago while they lay in bed, that Wade had laid his heart on the line and chased after Zoe, declaring his love to her, and all he'd gotten in return was a tepid 'wow' and silence for the next three months. Lavon knew his best male friend better than anyone – even better than Wade knew himself – and he'd assured AnnaBeth that Wade was a broken man inside. He'd confessed, somewhat guiltily, that he, Lavon Hayes, _hated_ that Zoe had been the cause of so much heartache for Wade these past two years.

Lavon loved Zoe, but he was bitterly disappointed in her. He'd warned her repeatedly not to play with Wade's affections, but she hadn't listened. Big surprise – she rarely ever did. Yes, Wade had cheated on Zoe when he was in a dark place and confused about his future prospects and where his relationship with Zoe was headed, but he'd come clean and was torn up about it. Lavon honestly believed that if Zoe loved Wade at all, she'd forgive him for his infidelity this one time and try to make a go of it. In his opinion, Zoe Hart would never do better than Wade Kinsella. He was her perfect match in every way, since they say that opposites attract. Even her parents liked Wade, while he, well, he simply adored her.

Lavon told AnnaBeth that he knew for a fact that Wade had remained celibate since the breakup and over the long, lonely summer. All he'd done was work day and night getting the Rammer Jammer back on its feet, so he'd have something more to offer a heart surgeon turned small town GP, other than living in a dilapidated shack on a property they didn't own and probably never would. He'd been determined to put his ass in gear and get on with improving his ability to make a decent living - for Zoe.

AnnaBeth's intuition told her that Zoe Hart's makeover was her way of saying that she was back in BlueBell to stay and she was embracing her southern roots, albeit in a small way. AnnaBeth thought hell would freeze over before Zoe became a clone of Lemon Breeland or even herself, but her fashion concession was a huge improvement and spoke volumes.

Zoe Hart was coming back to claim her man and AnnaBeth was gonna make damn sure her friend got him. Yep, Wade didn't stand a chance against Zoe Hart and AnnaBeth Nass once they got a chance to scheme and plan his downfall.

AnnaBeth came to a stop beside Zoe at the baggage carousel, where the smaller woman was tapping her expensive shoe impatiently as she waited for her luggage. Not everything about Zoe had changed - she _was_ Zoe Hart after all – a brilliant New York surgeon running about in four inch, hideously expensive shoes, with a penchant for interfering and getting herself into hot water. But _she_ was the woman Wade fell in love with.

Now, first things first, how to neutralize Lemon Breeland? She was gonna be the biggest obstacle in _this_ love story. Oh, the irony of it all, AnnaBeth thought wryly, suppressing a giggle.

…

A/N: Photos for the chapter (Zoe's dress and shoes) are on my blog at jkazziefanfiction dot wordpress dot com

Please review and let me know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2 - Confessions

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The CW is the author and owner of Hart of Dixie. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

…

A/N: Thanks for the great response to chapter 1. I haven't had a chance to respond to signed reviews as yet, but I will later this week.

Chapter 2 - Confessions

AnnaBeth closed the rear door of Lavon's Navigator with a soft thwack and walked to the driver's door just as Zoe was climbing into the front passenger seat. Zoe Hart had arrived in Alabama with no less than four suitcases – and not one of those sets that came with luggage in decreasing sizes – no, Zoe's were all full size, expensive and monogrammed with her initials, weighing at least forty pounds each. How one woman could own so many clothes was a mystery to AnnaBeth, and she was friends with Lemon!

"So, Zoe, tell me about this 'plan' of yours," AnnaBeth invited curiously. She steered the Navigator out of the short-term parking lot at Mobile airport and onto the highway toward BlueBell. "You said that your dress had something to do with it."

Zoe stared out the windscreen and chewed on her lip, contemplating how much to confide in the other woman. One of her self-improvement resolutions was _not_ to involve other people in her personal soap opera. Drama had been a running theme of the past year and it was exhausting for her, let alone anyone else. Poor Lavon had gotten the worst of it, but right now, she needed to confide in someone and AB was the sanest adult she knew in BlueBell next to Lavon. Making a snap decision, she turned in her seat so she was looking at AnnaBeth in profile. Taking a deep breath, words began spewing out of Zoe's mouth.

"Okay, here's the thing. Over the summer, I realized I've kinda been a real bitch to a lot of people, messing with their relationships and causing a lot of pain and trouble. I didn't do any of it maliciously, but that doesn't really matter a whole lot in the cold light of day."

AnnaBeth took her eyes off the road to stare at Zoe incredulously. Wow!

"I thought it was bad enough being in a triangle with George and Wade, but Mom said my recent love life was more like a five point star of trouble when I added in Lemon and Tansy." She sighed. "I _ruined_ two of George's relationships with women he had deep feelings for, all because I didn't want some other woman to have what I thought I wanted, but didn't really want, because what I wanted and still want is Wade. How screwed up is that?"

AnnaBeth blinked. "Well – " Zoe interrupted.

"I treated Wade like he meant less to me than he actually really did. I was too stupid to see what was right in front of me the entire time, practically from my first day in BlueBell when I nearly had drunk sex with Wade in his car, but didn't when I played Dixie with my butt."

AnnaBeth nearly swerved off the road. _What!_ Lavon didn't tell her that story. I wonder if he knows, she mused.

"And, then," Zoe continued, barely noticing the vehicle's sudden trajectory toward a ditch, "I blamed him entirely for our break up when _I_ was at least partly responsible for how he felt about himself, and his place in my life. I put George Tucker between us like a specter, _and_ I made unintentional, but snide remarks about Wade's lack of career prospects – "

Zoe paused to take a deep breath, and AnnaBeth quickly took advantage. "Well, Zoe – " Apparently, Zoe wasn't listening.

"I _tried_ to show him how I _really_ felt about him when I gave him _Wade's Place_, but I think it just made him feel worse. Then he went and performed with Meatball in the _Battle of the Bands_ instead of George as lead singer. That was my fault, too. I really, _really_ wanted him to win so he could get his dream, but all I did was make him question his choices about Meatball – have you heard him sing? ugh! – but what do _I_ know about country music anyway – ?"

AnnaBeth removed one hand from the steering wheel and held it up in a stopping motion. "Zoe Hart! Take a breath for goodness sake, I can hardly keep up with you."

Zoe made a face. "Sorry, I tend to ramble when I'm nervous."

"I know, but give me a chance to respond," AnnaBeth begged. "Now, firstly, what is _Wade's Place,_ and when and why did you give it to Wade?"

"Okay. It's a sign."

"A sign?" AnnaBeth drawled.

Zoe nodded. "Yep, a neon sign that said _Wade's Place_ and I gave it to him before the _Battle of the Bands,_ so he'd know I had faith in him."

AnnaBeth was confused. "That he'd win?"

"Yes … no … yes." Now, Zoe was confused. She sucked in a breath and tried to explain. "Okay, yes I hoped he'd win, but for him, not me, and I gave him the sign so he'd know I was behind him 100% – about his bar, not about the battle, but that too."

AnnaBeth shook her head. Keeping up with Zoe was exhausting. "Alrighty, so let me get this straight. You said something to Wade that he construed as you raggin' on him about being a bartender?"

Zoe nodded emphatically. "Yes."

"But you weren't?"

"Not intentionally," Zoe whined.

AnnaBeth rolled her eyes. "Zoe, you _know_ Wade is sensitive about his job when it comes to feeling like he isn't good enough for you," she scolded.

Zoe cringed. "I know, but that's why I gave him the sign, to show him I believe in him. I don't care that he's a bartender, AB. He always thought it bothered me, but it didn't ... doesn't, and he had this dream of one day owning his own bar."

The other woman quirked her brows. "Which he now does, with Lemon Breeland as his business partner."

"Yes!"

"Wait. That was the night that Wade cheated on you – _after_ you gave him the sign."

Zoe's mouth tightened. "Yep," she confirmed, popping the p.

"Ouch!" consoled AnnaBeth.

"I know, but to be fair, I didn't do anything before then to _not _make him feel like I was just filling in time with him 'til George Tucker was free."

AnnaBeth frowned. "But, Zoe, George Tucker was free months earlier when he left Lemon on their wedding day … for you!"

Zoe huffed. "Okay, first, George did _not_ leave Lemon for _me_. George Tucker _used me_ as an excuse to call off his wedding; and second, I'd already connected with Wade by having epic sex with him during the storm."

"Epic, huh?" AnnaBeth smirked.

Zoe blushed. "You have no idea." Her eyes widened worriedly. "You don't, do you?"

"Oh, no. No, no, I've never gone _there_ with Wade, but I did kiss him once in our senior year at high school. He made my toes curl," she recalled dreamily.

Zoe scoffed. "Yeah, he has a habit of doin' that." The two women giggled.

"Okay, but what does all of this have to do with your 'plan', Zoe? I don't follow."

"I need to prove to Wade I'm back in BlueBell for good. I want him back in my life – and yes, in my bed, or his bed, or our bed, or any bed – it doesn't really matter as long as it's a flat surface, although, he's pretty good at pinning me against a wall," she segued. "And this time, I'm goin' to be the supportive woman behind him, so he'll always know what a great man he is. I also want to make a better effort to fit in. BlueBell is my home and I need to start acting like it. I just have to convince Wade that I'm all in."

AnnaBeth inclined her head doubtfully. "Well, ignoring his efforts to stay in contact, wasn't a good start, Zoe. You really hurt him, and he didn't sound as if he was prepared to be all that forgivin' when I talked to him earlier."

The brunette made a face. "So, he's pissed at me, huh?"

"Yeeaaah, I think that's an understatement."

"So what do I do, AB, you _have_ to help me!"

"Oh, I will, because, _you_ are the best thing to ever happen to Wade Kinsella, and I reckon he's the best thing to ever happen to you, too. Lavon thinks so, as well."

"Yeah, he is, but I was blind," Zoe agreed sadly. "I was so lonely in New York and I missed him. He chased me half way to Atlanta to tell me he loved me; that he wanted another chance, and I put him off. I'm such an idiot, AnnaBeth, I told him I needed time to think, and now I'm worried I've left it too long." She sighed. "Most of the time, I think Wade Kinsella is too good for me. I know my Mom thinks so," she added, a touch irritated.

AB rolled her eyes. "Then, _why_, for goodness sake, did you ignore him for three months? Three whole months, Zoe! Lemon's had twelve long weeks talkin' in Wade's ear about how you're not good enough for him; how when the goin' got tough, you got goin' – all the way back to New York, where you belong in Lemon's opinion – and believe me, she _never_ let an opportunity pass without puttin' in her two cents worth."

Zoe stared at her lap, wringing her clenched hands. She decided to come clean to AnnaBeth. She planned on confessing to Wade first, followed by her closest friends and colleagues - since they all _needed_ to know - and Brick already knew anyway.

"Okay, well at first, New York was great. I told myself I needed the time alone to think about what I really wanted for my life. My mother was supportive for a change, and my dad was back in the city and working at NY Hospital. For the first month, I was working hard. Dad got my elective surgical rotation changed to a cardiothoracic one, and he was teaching me everything – we were really connecting, more than we had in nearly twenty years – but the work was hard, the days were long and I wasn't getting any exercise or eating properly.

"About six weeks into my rotation, I started to feel unwell. I was dizzy and nauseous, and I dropped around seven pounds in weight I couldn't afford to lose. When I wasn't working, all I wanted to do was sleep."

AnnaBeth gasped and the car swerved again, but this time she was coming up to the off-ramp to BlueBell, so it didn't matter so much. Her hands tightened on the wheel and she gulped a little as she straightened up. "You … you're not … _pregnant_, are you, Zoe?! Because Wade and you had that little – "

Zoe waved her hands negatively. "No! I'm not pregnant, but the idea did cross my mind at the time, and instead of taking a pregnancy test, like I know I should have, I just buried my head in the sand, hoping my symptoms would go away."

"But, they didn't," said AB intuitively.

"No, they didn't. I just got sicker, until one day, I fainted in the OR during a by-pass surgery. I woke up in the emergency room with a thumping headache and an IV in my arm. My dad made me have a blood test and then he sent me to a specialist friend of his."

"What's wrong with you?" AnnaBeth asked worriedly.

"Don't be overly concerned, AB, I'm not dying or anything," Zoe reassured. "I do have a medical condition that's controlled by drug therapy, but I'm fine, I promise."

AnnaBeth pulled the Navigator over to the side of the road, and left it idling as she released the seat belt and turned to face her diminutive friend. "What condition, Zoe?!" AB shrieked.

Zoe cringed, rubbing her ringing ears. "Sheesh, AB, take it down a notch, would ya – you're spending way too much time with Lemon," she teased.

"I will _not_ take it down," AB retorted mutinously. "Not until you tell me what's been goin' on with you." She air jabbed her index finger in Zoe's direction to drive home her point. "I'm waiting, Zoe Hart," she prompted sternly.

Zoe rolled her eyes. "Okay, if I tell you, will you promise not to say anything to anyone else until I can tell Wade first? AB narrowed her eyes. "I mean it, AnnaBeth," Zoe insisted. "You can't even tell Lavon. Once I've told Wade what's been going on with me, I'll tell everyone else, but until then, it's our secret ... and Brick's," she added as an afterthought.

AB nodded reluctantly. "I assume Brick knows because – "

"He's my doctor in BlueBell, yes," Zoe confirmed. "I had my file sent to him at my father's insistence and I spoke with Brick at length on the phone yesterday." Admitting that she was not omnipotent; that her body had failed her was anathema to her. "Like I said, I'm going to be fine; I _am_ fine, but I do have diabetes. It's type 2 and it's apparently been coming on for quite awhile," she disclosed.

"Diabetes?" AB gasped. "Oh my God, Zoe, aren't you a little young and fit for that. I mean, doesn't diabetes affect older (she leaned forward to whisper, just in case people outside the car might hear her and think her impolite) fat people?" Zoe giggled. Annabeth's belief was a common misnomer. "Why are you laughing?! This is not a laughing matter, Zoe Hart! Stop it."

"I'm sorry, AB, I don't mean to make light of it, or you. Yes, diabetes often does affect older people who've made poor lifestyle choices, but it also affects young, otherwise fit and healthy adults and children."

"So, do you have to take insulin?" she sniffled, wiping worry tears from her face. Zoe reached into her purse for a travel pack of Kleenex, handing a couple of pink tissues to her companion.

"Yes, I do, twice a day. Once before bed and then again before breakfast. I also take oral medication and I have to watch my diet, get plenty of exercise and sleep, drink lots of water and limit my alcohol intake. But, those are all things I should be doing anyway, so it's fine, and it's not like I don't know how to give myself an injection, is it?" Zoe said wryly, trying to relieve the tension. AnnaBeth half smiled and wiped her eyes.

"So, the diabetes won't impact your life?"

"Not demonstrably, not if I do the right things. There's no cure, but the condition shouldn't stop me from doing anything I want, within reason."

AB leaned over the center console and hugged Zoe tightly. "Alright, I won't say anything to anyone, I promise, but you need to tell Lavon and Wade, because I don't know how long I can keep this to myself," she stated honestly.

Zoe wagged her finger at her friend. "Good, and no telling Lemon. For some obscure reason that escapes me, I'm not her favorite person," Zoe mocked. "She's also one of the biggest gossips in BlueBell, and Brick says _I'm_ a blabbermouth," Zoe griped." AB laughed, gesturing a zipping motion across her mouth, then put the car in gear to finish the drive home.

…

AnnaBeth parked the Navigator in front of the carriage house. "Let's get your luggage inside and freshen up so we can go the Rammer Jammer. Wade needs to see that dress."

Zoe chewed on her lip, thinking, as the two women pulled her cases from the back of the large vehicle. "How do you think he'll be? Do you think he'll be happy to see me, AB?"

"Yes," she answered firmly.

"Oh, good. When you said earlier that he didn't sound too happy – "

"Oh, he'll fight it, Zoe, there's no doubt in my mind about that, but you wear that dress into the bar with a big smile of greeting for Wade on your face, and he'll melt. He might not show it – in fact, I can pretty much guarantee he'll give you the cold shoulder – but inside, he'll be as giddy as a school girl."

Twenty-five minutes later, refreshed and with a new coating of lipstick, the women pulled into the car park of the Rammer Jammer where Lavon was waiting outside. AB had the foresight to send a text and have him meet them. Lavon had Zoe in his arms before she'd even climbed from the car.

"Lavon!" she squealed excitedly as he swung her around. Her skirt belled out around her legs, giving Tansy Truitt's obnoxious brothers a good look at her underwear. AnnaBeth shot them a filthy look and snapped her fingers at them, pointing the way out of there. Wade banned them from the Rammer Jammer for harassing the female customers, but they kept coming around. They slunk off into the shadows with shifty looks on their faces. How those Neanderthals were related to Tansy, AnnaBeth would never know, but Lavon needed to have Sheriff Pickett run them out of town and back to the swamp they crawled out of. They were nothin' 'cept sheer trouble with a capital T.

"Z, my girl! It hasn't been the same in BlueBell without you. Three months was too long. Next time you go away, it better just be a two week vacation or a seminar."

Zoe lightly punched his bulging bicep and blushed prettily. "At least I know you and AB missed me, Lavon. What's been going on with you? You're almost glowing." She assessed him curiously. The Mayor glanced over to AnnaBeth. She shrugged and waved at him to tell Zoe their news.

He grinned. "Well, Z, it's like this. You are currently talkin' to a newly engaged man." Zoe squealed and jumped up and down in the dusty car park on her $600 Louboutins, before clasping the large man (as best she could) against her for a congratulatory hug.

"AnnaBeth," Zoe squealed again, rushing to Lavon's grinning fiancée to hug and kiss her. "Why didn't you tell me? You let me rattle on for over an hour and you never said a word."

"Well, it's not like I could get a word in edgewise, was it?" she reminded Zoe.

"Let me see your ring," Zoe gushed, reaching for AnnaBeth's hand. The other woman proudly displayed the honking big, tear-drop diamond ring on her finger. It was a rare pink diamond that was blinding as it sparkled under the exterior lights, set into a platinum band.

"Oh, it's beautiful, pink really suits you. Did you pick it out yourself?"

"Nope, Lavon did that all on his own. I love it, and he's never gettin' it back," AnnaBeth declared, reaching up for a kiss from her obliging fiancé.

"So when's the wedding?" Zoe asked, as they headed inside the Rammer Jammer. She was arm-in-arm with AB, while Lavon escorted them protectively.

"We were thinkin' about early November," AB answered. "The weather will still be nice and I love the Alabama Fall."

"It sounds great, I can't wait – " Zoe's voice trailed off. The noise in the restaurant descended into a silence that was louder than all of the previous rabble. Every single person turned and stared. She glanced around the bar nervously, excruciatingly aware that she wasn't wanted, but the only person whose opinion mattered was Wade Kinsella's. _Where was he?_

Lemon came marching up to the small group standing at the door, her nose so high in the air, Zoe was surprised she didn't have a nose bleed. She stared at Zoe dismissively, like she was a dog turd under her shoe.

"Lavon, AnnaBeth, good evening. A table for two?" she asked, deliberately snubbing Zoe. The entire bar held their collective breath waiting for Zoe to come back with a cutting remark. She bit her tongue (literally) behind tightly closed lips. It wasn't like she thought she didn't deserve Lemon's resentment. AB had warned her about it earlier, so she was prepared to be the bigger person and let Lemon get her digs in, if it made her feel better.

"A table for three, Lemon, as you are very well aware, since I called earlier for a reservation," Lavon pointed out.

"The Rammer Jammer takes reservations, now?" Zoe whispered to AnnaBeth.

"Only for VIPs."

"Which, obviously, I'm not," Zoe said, sighing. "Look, Lemon, it's okay. I can drop by the Dixie Stop and pick up something for dinner. I won't darken the door of your establishment again unless I'm invited. As soon as I speak to Wade, I'll leave."

"Wade's busy," Lemon snapped, "but I'll be glad to let him know you were askin' after him. And since you're waitin' for an invitation, let me advise you, you'll be waitin' a long time. By my estimation, hell will be freezin' over before you'll be welcome _anywhere_ in BlueBell, so good luck at the Dixie Stop. You have a nice evenin' you hear, and watch your back on the way out," she added spitefully. She turned on the ball of one well shod foot and led the way to a clean table, ordering Lavon and AB to follow her. They held their places by Zoe's side, absolutely mortified.

"Lemon Breeland!" Lavon yelled. She stopped in her tracks, turning around to glare at him.

"What?!"

The rapt crowd gasped. "You have _no right_ to ban Zoe from this establishment. She's done nothing to you, and the last time I looked at the city planning records, Wade Kinsella was an equal partner in the Rammer Jammer."

"But, Wade doesn't – "

"You don't know what Wade wants, Lemon, you just think you do," Lavon scolded. "For your information, I spoke with Wade earlier, and he wants to see Zoe."

She smirked evilly, a glint in her eyes. "Well, since Wade isn't here right now, it's a moot point, isn't it? Dr High Heels is not welcome at the Rammer Jammer on my shift. She can come back tomorrow or visit Wade at home this evenin'. Better yet, she can turn right back around and get on a plane heading to New York – where she so obviously belongs, since she couldn't be bothered to stay in contact."

Dr Breeland spoke up sharply, clearly embarrassed by his eldest daughter's ungracious behavior. "Lemon Breeland, you don't know what you're talkin' about." Magnolia sat smirking between Brick and Shelby while Lemon got a dressing down from their father, in public no less. She was ecstatic. Lemon had been a real biatch lately, more so than usual. Normally, Magnolia could care less, except she'd been in the line of fire more than she appreciated in recent weeks.

"But, Daddy!" Lemon whined shrilly.

"Never you mind Daddying me, young lady. You're never too old for me to take over my knee and paddle your behind. Now, Dr Hart has come in with Mayor Hayes and his fiancée who is also your best friend, and you _will_ welcome all three of them. Am I clear?"

Lemon stamped her foot. "Yes, Daddy," she acquiesced, not prepared to openly defy her father in public. She pasted a fake smile on her burning face. "Please follow me, your table is this way." Lavon seated his two female companions and Lemon handed him and AB their menus, dropping Zoe's onto the table in front of her. "May I take your drinks order?" she asked stiffly.

"I'll have a Jack Daniels. Ladies, a glass of white wine?" Lavon offered.

"Not for me, thanks, Lavon. I'll just have a sparkling water, but you go ahead if you want, AnnaBeth," encouraged Zoe.

"You're not drinkin' Zoe?" Lavon noted with surprise.

Zoe shrugged. "Not right now. I'll enjoy a glass with dinner."

"Me, too," piped up AnnaBeth. "I'll just have a sparkling water, as well."

"Fine. Your server will be over shortly to take your meal order." With that, Lemon hurried to the bar where she dropped the order pad in front of the bartender (a man Zoe didn't know) and disappeared out the back, away from the town scrutiny.

As soon as the rear door slammed, the guests began speaking all at once and someone selected a song on the jukebox, filling the awkward silence. Zoe caught Brick's eye and smiled at him gratefully. He nodded in acknowledgement, before returning his attention to his dinner companions and his meal.

"Okay, that could have gone better," Zoe remarked. She hid her face in the menu.

AnnaBeth snorted. "I did warn you, Zoe," she reminded.

Wanda came over to the table to deliver their drinks. "Hi, Dr Hart," she greeted pleasantly. Wanda always had been non-judgmental, unlike a certain blonde Belle.

"Hi, Wanda, it's nice to see you. When did you start working at the Rammer Jammer again?"

"Oh, a few weeks after you went back to New York. The bees flew away after we got them out of Tansy's trailer. They never came back, so my honey business was a bit of a non-starter; and, well, Tom and I need the money," she said rubbing her stomach.

Zoe's gaze followed Wanda's loving movement over her gently swelling belly. "Wanda, are you – ?"

Wanda nodded excitedly. "Yes, I'm five months pregnant."

Zoe stood up to hug the bubbly redhead. "Wanda, I'm so happy for you. Congratulations."

"Thanks, Dr hart. Now that you're back – you _are_ back aren't you?" Zoe nodded. "Oh, good," Wanda breathed, "then I'll be switchin' my OB appointments to you." She leaned down to whisper in Zoe's ear. "No offense against Dr Breeland, but I'm a little uncomfortable with him lookin' at my lady parts so often, if you know what I mean?"

Zoe smiled. "I do, and I'll be happy to take over your care. Call the practice and make an appointment. I'll be back at work on Wednesday – I'm just taking a couple of days beforehand to get resettled."

Wanda smiled brightly. "I will. Now, what can I get y'all from the kitchen?" She wrote down their dinner preferences and even promised to have a word with the chef when Zoe ordered a dish that wasn't exactly on the menu. She promised to be back in about thirty minutes with their meals, apologizing for the delay, but stating it was real busy tonight.

"It's fine, Wanda, we won't expire from starvation if we have to wait a while."

"Thanks, Dr Hart." She was on her way to the kitchen when she hurried back. "By the way, I love your dress. It's very pretty, and it suits you."

A smile of gratitude lit up Zoe's face. "Thank you, Wanda, I appreciate the compliment."

"You do look lovely, Zoe," agreed Lavon. "It's nice to see you in a color other than black for a change."

"Thanks, Lavon, this is part of my new BlueBell wardrobe. I'm making a fresh start." Zoe drank a large mouthful of her sparkling water, feeling really thirsty.

"Ah, is that what it is? I thought you might have been tryin' to impress Wade," he responded slyly, fishing for information.

"That, too," she admitted, blushing. She finished her drink, and looked around for a server to order another one, but they were all helping other customers. "Wow, it really is busy in here tonight. I'm going up to the bar for another drink," she told her companions. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, we're good," said Lavon. He spoke quietly to AnnaBeth when Zoe was out of earshot. "She's different, and it's not just the dress. What'd she say drivin' out here from the airport?" AB's eyes widened and she shifted away from Lavon's all seeing gaze guiltily. He eyed her like Burt Reynolds ogles a bacon burger, ready to pounce at the slightest movement. "AB, what aren't you tellin' me?

She sipped from her water glass, hoping to evade the question. It worked for all of five seconds, until he prodded her arm insistently. "Nothing, Lavon, really. We talked about New York, that's all … and about Wade," she admitted. She wasn't lying, she was just being vague with the truth.

"Uh huh," he muttered, not convinced. "What about Wade?"

She shrugged, raising her glass for another sip. "Nothing much. She loves him and wants him back. The dress is her way of telling Wade she's back for good. I think she's embracin' her southern roots."

"While I'm pleased she's finally admitted the truth, I think it's gonna take more than a sundress and a haircut to win back Wade. He's hurtin' AB, and not without cause," Lavon reminded her.

"I know, but she had her reasons," she told him, without thinking.

"Ah hah! I knew it. What reasons?" he demanded.

AnnaBeth cringed. "Look, Lavon, I can't tell you. I promised Zoe I wouldn't, and I'd really like to keep my promise. Please drop it. She'll tell you herself, _after _she tells Wade."

His eyes bugged out of his head. "Naw … naw … naw. AB, tell me she's not – "

"No! No, she's not, but it's her news to tell, not mine. Now hush up. Zoe's on her way back with her drink, and Wade just rushed in the front door."

The crowd stopped talking, focusing on Wade and Zoe as they faced each other for the first time in three months. Wade stood stock-still, mesmerized by the sight of Zoe in the middle of the Rammer Jammer. He looked her up and down slowly, taking in the very un-New York-like dress and relaxed hairstyle. For a second, his lips curled in that half smile of his that he always wore whenever Zoe was around, until he remembered he was pissed at her, and wiped his expression clean. He walked over, halting a foot away and forcing her to crane her head back to look at him. He breathed in the intoxicating scent that was all Zoe Hart.

She swallowed nervously as she searched his blue eyes. "Hi, Wade."

"Hello, Zoe. So, are you back?"

"Yes, for good this time."

"That's nice," he told her noncommittally. "I'm sure Brick will be grateful for the extra pair of hands."

Zoe was a little hurt that Wade didn't seem happier to see her. She forced the brimming tears from her eyes, blinking rapidly. What did she expect from him? A greeting like Lavon's; that he'd bend her over his arm and kiss her senseless?

Wade reached up to brush away a tear; he melted when she cried, but he dropped his arm self-consciously when Zoe flinched. He swallowed and stepped back, out of her personal space. "You look good, Zoe. New York obviously suits you."

"Thanks. New York was mostly great, and it was good to spend time with my parents and Gigi, um, but I don't want to live there anymore. Everything I want and need is here, in BlueBell." She stared at him beseechingly, begging him to understand what she wasn't saying.

He shoved his hands in his back pockets, rocking on his feet. "Oh. So, have you seen George yet?"

Zoe sighed and closed her eyes tiredly. "No, Wade, I haven't _seen_ George yet. I'm _not_ interested in George Tucker."

He smiled a little, sneaking a look at Golden Boy slumped in the corner nursing a beer. He'd obviously been drinking for hours – he looked wasted, barely reacting to Zoe's statement. He skulled the brew, made a face that might have been loathing and passed out over the table. Wade felt inexplicably happy that Zoe wasn't interested in GT, and at the same time, he pitied the once vibrant and happy-go-lucky lawyer. He knew just how George felt, but for the first time, Wade wasn't the one drowning his sorrows in liquor.

Wade stared into the wide, brown orbs of the woman he loved more than his own life. There would never by anyone else for him – he knew that; no matter what he'd said to Lavon in a fit of anger – but he wasn't gonna roll over so easy this time. "Okay, that's interestin' to know, but I've heard it all before, so you'll excuse me if I don't immediately believe you. Enjoy your dinner, Zoe." He walked off toward the bar.

"Wade!" Zoe called out. He stopped, leaving his back to her, while fighting the urge to snatch her up and run away with her. "Will you join us for dinner? Please," she added. "I'd really like to talk to you."

His fists clenched reflexively by his side. He breathed roughly, praying to God to give him the courage he needed to resist her. "I don't think so, Zoe. I need some time."

He disappeared into the office, leaving Zoe sad, but utterly determined to win back Wade Kinsella.

…

Disclaimer: I am not a medical professional. My research tells me that most type 2 diabetes is controlled for many years with tablets before insulin therapy is required. Apparently, the younger a person is when diagnosed with diabetes, and especially if there is significant weight loss and the person does not fit the stereotype (sedentary and overweight), then insulin therapy is recommended. Hence, Zoe needs to take insulin to help control her condition. If any readers are medical professionals and I've gotten this very wrong, please feel free to let me so I can correct any anomalies.

A/N: AnnaBeth's engagement ring is on my blog at jkazziefanfiction dot wordpress dot com.

Not a lot of Wade in this chapter, our favorite couple will talk in the next chapter.

Thanks for reading. Please review and let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3 - Rescue

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The CW is the author and owner of Hart of Dixie. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

…

Chapter 3 - Rescue

Zoe flopped face down onto the dustsheet draping her bed, choking on the cloud of dust rising from the fabric. She considered moving, but felt too depressed to worry about the cost of the dress she was wearing. She'd always been so precious about her clothes in the past, but right now, she could care less. She shrugged – it would wash well, or it wouldn't – it was the least of her worries, she decided.

She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Cobwebs swung idly in the gentle night breeze blowing through the open windows. It soothed her to watch them move while she ruminated on her first meeting, albeit a brief one, with Wade Kinsella.

Had she really thought that reconciling with Wade after a three month absence would be so easy? If she was being honest, then, yes, she had. Wade had said he loved her and she believed him, because of one thing she was absolutely certain, Wade Kinsella had never told a woman he loved her, except maybe his mother.

But, he said he needed time and that surprised her. How much time? And what did he have to think about? Zoe had been the one confused about everything and overwhelmed by all the drama – most of it her fault, but still, Wade was _her_ safe harbor – he was _always_ there when she needed him, even when he was mad at her. Him asking for time had never occurred to her … OMG! … Did he not _want_ to get back with her?!

No. No! NO! she screamed internally.

Zoe began to panic. What if she _was_ too much like the 'hard work' Jonah Breeland accused her of at the New York wedding? She scowled in remembered annoyance. Asshole! She'd wasted so much time already. If she left Wade alone with too much time to think, he might decide she wasn't worth his trouble. What if Wade made her wait three months for an answer … like … like she'd done to him! That time scale added up to six months; eight months if she counted the time apart since their breakup.

Oh, no. No. No. No!

She sat up on the bed, gasping as her panic escalated. "Calm down, calm down," she murmured, trying to talk herself off a cliff. There was no more time to lose. Life was too short and every minute of every day was precious. Once they were gone, those moments were lost forever. The situation called for action – immediately!

Zoe decided weeks ago that she was through waiting for her mythical Prince Charming. Wade had been right about her all along. She _did_ gravitate toward men who were educated, professional and driven. Men who were suave, handsome and sexy; who had money or the potential to earn a lot of money. Men who were like her, because _that _was the type of man her mother expected her to marry!

Zoe never realized before just how very shallow that list of qualifications was. She didn't want those attributes in a partner if that's all he had to offer. She wanted love, friendship, passion, laughter and devotion. Wade offered her all of those things … and he was handsome, sexy and hardworking. He was smart, handy with tools, creative and a local business owner. He was suave when he wanted to be – she remembered him dressed in a tuxedo – yum! – and he always lived up to his responsibilities – the ones that counted, anyway. Just look at what he'd done for his Dad – staying in BlueBell, sacrificing a college education and his own dreams to look after Earl, while his brother Jesse shot through at the first opportunity.

Zoe's fairytale idea of the perfect partner had been just that – fiction. No one was perfect, not least Zoe, and Wade had _never _pretended to be anything other than what he presented. One irrevocable fact Zoe finally accepted: perfect was unattainable; perfect was lonely and perfect was downright boring. Nope, the perfect man did not exist, but her imperfect man did and he was anything but boring.

Despite Zoe anticipating a quick and painless reunion, Wade had been cool and disinterested, walking away without a backward glance after refusing her dinner invitation. He was pissed at her – understandably – but according to Lavon, Wade _still_ loved her and she held onto the those words all through dinner.

"He's hurtin', Zoe," Lavon had explained at dinner. "That boy declared his love to you, somethin' he's _never_ done before, and you left him – for twelve weeks! I told you to take a weekend to gather perspective, not one quarter of the year!" Lavon's voice rose as he let go of his anger, only calming down when AB shushed him. "He tried to keep in contact with you, Z, and you ignored him. No one's sayin' you had to talk to him, but you could've thrown him a bone and replied to a text message. He loves you Zoe, and you abandoned him, and that is _not_ cool. Not cool at all."

Zoe sat quietly wallowing after Lavon's lecture, sniffling into her paper napkin. AnnaBeth tried her best to comfort Zoe, murmuring words of support, while glaring angrily at her persecutor. But Zoe had no intention of being the cause of tension in _their_ relationship.

"You're right, Lavon, I _was_ horrible to Wade and I deserve your criticism. I was selfish and cruel, and I don't deserve him, but Lavon, I _really_ do love him, and I'll do _anything_ necessary to convince him. Now, please don't fight about me you two; I don't want to be the cause of any more breakups," she complained. Her friends snickered, assuring Zoe that breaking them up would take more than the efforts of one tiny, neurotic doctor regardless of her past history. She sniffle-giggled, allowing Lavon to hug her.

Lavon's reprimand on top of Wade's snub had left her distracted and disengaged, and not unexpectedly, her appetite suffered. She picked lethargically at her dinner, favoring two glasses of wine instead to soothe her emotions – much to AnnaBeth's disapproval, who promptly refused Lavon's offer to order another bottle. When he went up to the bar to order their coffees, she urged Zoe to eat more and drink less alcohol.

"You need to keep you glucose levels steady," AnnaBeth lectured.

"You're gonna be a tyrant about this from now on, aren't you?" hissed Zoe.

"Yes. Now, eat, and for pity's sake, _put down_ the wine glass!" she scolded, taking it out of Zoe's hand. Thankfully, Lavon missed the exchange, since he was busy dodging the crowd as he returned with three mugs of coffee.

"Yes, Mom," Zoe joked, poking her tongue at AnnaBeth. Unfortunately her appetite was non-existent and the once appealing salad now repulsed her. Nonetheless, she made an effort to eat a little more of her dinner, picking at the lettuce, but leaving the chicken. The last thing she wanted, was for her friends to worry, or to make the rest of the town nosy. And speaking of nosy, Zoe groaned when she spotted BlueBell's self-proclaimed public relations guru making a beeline for their table.

Dash DeWitt had tried three times to approach her with his recorder clutched in his pudgy hand. She _really_ didn't want to deal with Alabama's biggest tattler on her first night back. Her life may have been a soap opera, but Dash was her most vocal critic, eagerly publicizing every drama for maximum value, instead of minding his own damned business! Dash tried to hide his excitement at another Zoe Hart scandal for his website, as he wound his way through the crowded restaurant. He backed off when Lavon stared him down and threatened to pull the plug on his blog by calling in a favor.

"Don't think I won't do it, Dash DeWitt," he threatened quietly. "You've been causin' trouble with that blog of yours for years and Zoe Hart has featured more times than she cares to remember. Find something else to report my friend, _before_ I invoke my executive powers as Mayor, and do it for you." Dash paled, apologized profusely and beat a hasty retreat. He didn't bother Zoe again for the rest of the evening.

Zoe hadn't seen Wade again before they left the Rammer Jammer at 10.30. The lights were still off in the gatehouse and it was much too early for him to be sleeping, making her wonder where he was hiding. She figured, correctly, that he was avoiding her. Well, there was nothing she could do about it tonight, but tomorrow was altogether a new ballgame. She intended to appear all over BlueBell to show Wade and the town that she was serious about staying. And as long as he didn't ban her from the Rammer Jammer, she planned on eating and socializing there as much as possible, since that's where Wade spent most of his time anyway.

Clambering off the bed, she stripped the dustsheet off and threw it in the corner revealing the Kate Spade sheets and comforter set, exactly as she'd left it. Zoe kicked off her shoes, loosened the clip from her hair and headed into the bathroom to remove her contact lenses and take a relaxing shower. She felt gross after a long day of travelling, and the humidity was already taking its toll, leaving her unusually tired. Refreshed from her shower, Zoe dressed in a cute little summer nightgown with matching panties and robe. Throwing her hairbrush onto the bathroom counter, she wearily measured her regular evening dose of insulin without checking her glucose levels. Crawling between the sheets, Zoe fell back against her squashy pillows, more than ready to call it a night.

An hour later, she was still awake, staring into the darkness …

…

Wade stopped his Camaro outside the gatehouse at close to 4 a.m. He climbed from the car and trudged onto the porch, physically and emotionally exhausted. He stared across the pond at the dark windows of the carriage house, thinking about Zoe. All he'd done the entire night was reminisce about Zoe. Her reappearance in his life had been a highly anticipated event, but the reality was anticlimactic, to say the least. They'd barely had a chance to speak – mostly by his choice – and what they had said to each other was publicly spoken. Wade hadn't any intention of providing gossip fodder to the residents of BlueBell and more particularly, its notoriously prying blogger.

Both he and Lemon had been no-shows at the Rammer Jammer following their separate confrontations with Zoe Hart. He didn't know where Lemon went – and he didn't rightly care since she'd been more annoying lately than usual – but he'd ended up at Earl's drinking a few beers, while his dad tippled cheap bourbon straight from the bottle. They'd watched footfall reruns on his fuzzy television screen, barely speaking other than to grunt, cheer or swear at the players.

Earl passed out around midnight and Wade rested in an armchair figuring he might as well stay there and consequently, avoid bumping into Zoe. He was a more responsible man thanks to Zoe, but that didn't mean he _wanted_ to hear what he felt sure was coming: Zoe did not love him.

He'd been dozing fitfully and listening to Earl's snores in the background when his phone had buzzed around 2 am within an incoming text message. It was Tom Long begging him to come back to the bar and deal with George Tucker. GT was exactly where Wade had seen him more than six hours earlier – slumped over the corner table in an alcohol induced coma.

Tom Long handed him GT's car keys. "There's a fresh pot of coffee on. I tried to get him to drink some, but he wasn't havin' none of it. I'm sorry for having to call you back."

Wade rubbed his head tiredly. "You did the right thing, Tom. George Tucker's not your responsibility – he's mine; I'm the bar owner. Go on home to Wanda and I'll see ya tomorrow."

"'Kay." He sent one last, pitying look in George's direction and said goodnight, locking the door behind him as he left.

Wade turned to study George thoughtfully. Never did he imagine George Tucker as the town drunk. Wade always figured he'd have that honor once Earl passed on – you know, keepin' it in the family. Walking behind the bar counter, he dropped GT's keys into the junk bowl and poured a large mug of steaming, sweet black coffee and a large glass of water. It took Wade more than an hour to sober up his friend and walk him out to his car under his own power.

Wade drove slowly through the sleepy streets of BlueBell, sneaking sideways glances at a morose George Tucker. "What are you doin', GT? This isn't like you," Wade said, concerned.

George turned bleary, soulless eyes in his direction. "Why do you care, Wade Kinsella. Jus' drive me home like the 'sponsible bar (he belched) owner you are, an' leave me 'lone," he slurred.

Instead of pushing, Wade resolved to speak to Brick Breeland about getting some help for George Tucker – _before_ he lost everything. By all accounts, his legal practice was in the toilet. He hadn't be around for months; and his drinking and unreliable office hours had driven all of his clients to Fillmore or Daphne. There was an eviction notice on the door of his office for unpaid rent, and he only had a place to live, because AnnaBeth leased him her houseboat. She'd gracefully allowed him to live there rent free, but she'd been talking more and more about getting rid of it. She never wanted the damned boat in the first place, and only had it now, because it was part of her divorce settlement.

After rolling to a stop at their destination, George fell out of Wade's car onto the coarse gravel road in front of the boat dock. Wade rubbed his forehead, cursing his lot in life and asking the darkness why, for the love of God, was he surrounded by raging alcoholics. Switching off the engine, he flung open his door, and stomped around the car to help George to his feet. He slapped Wade's hands away petulantly, loudly yelling that he could do it.

"Why'd Zoe Hart ever come to BlueBell?" George asked. Wade didn't answer, figuring George was just grumbling. "Eve'ythin' in my life was so good 'fore I saw her walkin' down that highway." He swayed on his feet and stared up at the dark sky. "I shoulda jus' left her there and may–(hiccup)–be, she woulda just got lost and gone back to the air–hic–port."

Wade chuckled, despite his friends sadness. It was no secret that GT blamed Zoe for all of his woes and yes, she'd played a part in them, but George was the one who _chose_ to leave Lemon, and Tansy was the one who _chose_ to leave George – those choices were theirs to own; just like it had been Wade's choice to sleep with a random girl following his epic fail in the _Battle of the Bands_.

He'd done the one thing he knew would drive Zoe from his life, because he was afraid of failing and of disappointing those closest to him. It had been his choice; his decision and for the first time in his life he'd owned it, and it had been painful and liberating. He only prayed that the changes he'd made in his character and life would be enough to convince Zoe to forgive him.

George was still rambling to himself as Wade come out of his reverie and he wondered what he'd missed. GT had been rather vocal of late about his recent abhorrence for the tiny New York doctor, and, intended or not, most of the town seemed to be siding with George, sneering and snorting whenever Zoe's named was mentioned.

Wade strode forward, determined to get George inside and into bed before he fell into the bay, drowning in his drunken stupor. "C'mon, George, let's get you inside before you fall over again," he cajoled in a conciliatory tone.

He blinked up at Wade, frowning thoughtfully. "You watch out for you'self, Wade, else she's gonna rip you to shreds just' like the rest of us poor bast–hic–ards."

Wade rolled his eyes and steered George toward the houseboat. All he wanted to do was go home and sleep; not babysit the man he'd always compared himself to. "I can look after myself, GT," he protested firmly. "You should know that 'bout me after all these years of bein' friends. You gotta stop blamin' Zoe for everything wrong in your life, 'cause it ain't her fault you left Lemon at the altar and it ain't her fault – entirely," he qualified, "that Tansy left you."

George sneered … or tried to. "Yeah, you keep tellin' you'self that, Wade Kinsella, an' we'll see how you're feelin' when Zoe tells ya it's all over. All I know is, I shoulda run her down on that highway," he slurred. "I'll still do it, too, if I get the chance. I'm a lawyer ya know; so I know how to make it look like an acci-accident," he boasted.

Wade blinked in horror. Before he could think, he'd punched George in the nose, knocking him to the ground. He was out cold, but Wade wasn't sorry. Leaning down, he hefted George over his shoulder and dumped him onto the houseboat. As he strode back to his car, he heard George yelling as he came to, and then the sound of his body crashing over the steps into the kitchen, followed by a long string of curses and then silence. Wade kept walking.

Needing to sleep, Wade decided to speak to the sheriff in the morning about keeping an eye on George, and he doubled his resolve to speak to Brick Breeland. Unlocking his front door, he walked inside the gatehouse. "What a night," he groaned to the dim room. He wasn't expecting an answer.

"You should try to relax more." Zoe's quiet voice came out of the shadows.

"Agh!" he yelled, surprised to find her there. He reached over to the door frame for the light switch. She was curled up on his crappy sofa in a short robe, nursing a half-empty bottle of water and blinking rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. She was wearing eye glasses, the first time he'd ever seen her without contact lenses.

"_What_, are you doin' here, Zoe?" Wade threw his keys and wallet onto the cluttered coffee table. He brought his hands to his hips and stared at the brazen woman with exasperation.

"I came to talk to you."

Wade rubbed his head frustratedly. "Damn it, Zoe! I told you I needed some time before we talked. What part of that request wasn't clear to you?"

Her face fell, and then she seemed to recover. "Your request was perfectly clear, and as soon as I've said what I need to say, I'll leave."

He sighed tiredly, dropping his head to his chest. He looked up when something belatedly occurred to him. "How'd you get in here, anyway?"

She pulled a neck chain from beneath her robe, showing him the brass token swinging from it. "Key. I still have the one you gave me." She tucked it back beneath her clothes when he reached out for it – like that would stop him if he really wanted it. He tried not to show how much her moxie amused him.

"I know you told me you needed time, but Wade, I want to know how much time. I came back to start my life fresh and I need to get this thing between us finalized," she said. Wade gulped. He knew it – she was gonna tell him it was definitely over. "Or, we could talk now and deal with the giant elephant in the room. After that, I promise to leave you alone – if that's what you want."

He rolled his eyes and scoffed, amusement over. "Well, isn't that just like you. Always thinkin' about yourself." Wade threw his hands up in resignation. He shoulda known that Zoe would do whatever the hell she wanted to do, no matter what he said. Her determination was one of the things he loved about her. Pushing aside the mess on his rickety coffee table, he sat down in front of her with his knees spread.

"Alright, talk. Tell me whatever it is that couldn't wait 'til the mornin', so I can get some sleep. If you hadn't noticed, the sun'll be up in two hours."

Zoe chewed on her lip, staring at him assessingly. "You work too hard, Wade. You need to take some time for yourself. Between Earl and the Rammer Jammer, and working at the plantation, you're always doing something!"

"Thanks for the recap of my curriculum vitae," he drawled, "but just tell me whatever it is you want to say. Oh, and don't look so surprised that I know what a curriculum vitae is," he growled. "I may not have a fancy college education like you and Golden Boy, but I graduated from high school with decent grades and I ain't ever been an idiot!"

Zoe looked shocked and hurt. "Wade, I've _never_ thought you were anything other than intelligent. Not having a formal education does _not_ define who _you are_ as a person. And just to be clear, you can accuse me of many wrongs against you, Wade Kinsella, and I'll willingly admit to them, but sneering at your life choices was not one of them!" she retorted angrily. "Well, except for all of the women," she clarified distastefully.

He stared at her, feeling ashamed. She was right and he'd been unfair. "Yeah, I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."

"Then why'd you say it?" she asked, uncurling from the sofa to sit up. She placed her bare feet on the filthy floor before he could stop her. His housekeeping hadn't been very regular since she'd broken up with him on the evening of Wanda and Tom's wedding.

"Wade?" Zoe prompted.

"Erm – " He shrugged, embarrassed to tell her that he lost all confidence when it came to her. She cocked her head to one side and studied him. Making a decision, she leaned forward and put her hands on his knees. His body reacted immediately, just like it always did when she touched him, and he fidgeted self-consciously. Her lips twisted knowingly.

"Wade, you have no reason to feel insecure around me. I know in the past I've not always been honest with you about how I feel, and I kept throwing George Tucker between us, but one of the things I love about you (Wade's leg jerked) is your infallible belief in your own confidence as a man. You exude self assurance and sexiness, and I was attracted to it – to you, from the very beginning. If I've ever made you doubt yourself, then I apologize."

Wade was stunned. She loved him? She hadn't come back to tell him to take a hike? She hadn't come back for George? … she said she hadn't tonight at the Rammer Jammer. A hopeful smile played around his lips, stretching into his trademark smirk. His eyes smoldered sexily and he winked at her playfully.

"So, I exude self assurance and sexiness, huh?" Her brow rose and her plump lips twitched affirmatively. "Well then, you must have found it hard to resist me, Doc, and for almost a year, too." She stared impassively, determined not to inflate his ego by reacting. He couldn't resist twitching the tail of his adorable kitten. "You do know, don't you, Doc, that I'm gonna 'exude' at every opportunity." She shivered and her heart raced – he could see the pulse beating in her neck. "I'm inclined to believe, based on my recollections, that if I put some extra effort into this exudin' talent of mine, you'll be a regular mound of pliable putty."

She rolled her eyes and snorted. He waggled his brows in challenge. "Yeah, okay," she admitted. "It's probable."

They smiled at each other, just losing themselves in the other for a few moments. Zoe fanned herself with her hand, wiping a film of perspiration from her forehead with a trembling hand. Wade didn't think it was that warm inside, but then he figured she was just heated from his teasing. Then Wade asked Zoe the question burning itself into his brain matter.

"Um, Zoe?"

"Mmm?"

"Did you mean it before when you said you loved me?"

She smiled, her eyes blinking drowsily behind her glasses. "Yes. It's not a platitude, Wade, I meant it. I love you and I want to try another relationship if you still want to. That's the reason why I came back, but just so you know, if you _ever _cheat on me again, I will cut your thing off and feed it to Burt Reynolds. Capisce?"

He gulped, cupping his junk protectively. "Capisce," he said, his own heart pounding. "I love you, too, Doc – that hasn't changed," he told her. Zoe smiled, seeming to quiver in excitement. He held up his hand in a stalling motion. "But, I think we need to take it a bit slower this time and get to know each other again – maybe go on a few dates, talk about what we want from life and spend some quality time together without lettin' the sex get in the way, like we did before."

"Really? I'd like that," she murmured, letting her eyes close, as she sagged against the sofa. She was dead on her feet. Wade's clock over the refrigerator said it was five o'clock in the morning. The birds began to twitter in the trees announcing the imminent arrival of sunrise. He decided to call it a night and send her back to her own bed.

He stood up, reaching down to take her hands in his and pull her to her feet. She swayed and nearly fell, but he caught her in his arms as she slumped forward against his chest.

"What the hell?" he gasped. He noticed the sheen of sweat clinging to her skin and lifted the back of his hand against her face. She felt cool and clammy. Was she sick?

"Waaade," she sang, sliding down his chest. He caught her under the arms and sat her back on the sofa where she fell over sideways into a slump, her eyes closing. Maybe she'd been drinking. Except until a short while ago, she'd behaved and sounded perfectly sober.

"Wade?" she whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Will you, um … Mmmm … oh, yeah, now I re-remember," she slurred. Will you help me buy a bike?"

Huh? That was a bit random. He didn't in a hundred lifetimes see Zoe Hart on a bicycle. "Why do you want a bike, Doc, you've got a perfectly good car across the pond."

She didn't respond and he figured she'd fallen asleep. He exhaled roughly, scooping her up to take her home to sleep in her own comfortable bed, when she began sobbing. He sat on the sofa with her tiny body, slimmer and lighter than he remembered, on his lap, and attempted to soothe her."

"What's up, Doc?" he joked sweetly.

"I don't feel very good, Wade," she sniffled.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asked, his voice panicked. "Are you sick? Do you want me to call Brick?"

She blinked rapidly, trying to keep her eyes open. "Um - " She lost consciousness in his arms. He patted her cheek with a gentle hand, but she barely even reacted.

"Shit!" Wade stood up and laid Zoe gently in his bed, reaching for the house phone on his bedside table.

Brick answered the phone after only three rings, the habit of always being on call ingrained in him for a lifetime. "Yeah, hello. This is Dr Breeland."

"Brick! Brick!"

"Wade?"

"Yes! Somethin's wrong with Zoe. She's passed out and I can't wake her!" Wade yelled. He could hear rustling over the phone, as presumably, Brick climbed out of bed, since it was still only 5.30 in the morning.

"Where are you?"

"My place."

"Describe what happened." Brick climbed into his car and turned the ignition key. His Mercedes purred to life with a quiet hum, the hallmark of superior German engineering. He slid his phone into the jack on the dashboard. That damned silly girl, he thought. Always thinkin' she knows best 'cause she's a doctor.

"Um, we were talkin' and she started actin' funny and slurrin' her words." Wade heard the sound of tires rolling over gravel, relaxing somewhat when he knew Brick was on his way over.

"Anything else?"

Wade scratched his head as he stared at Zoe, trying to think. "Um, she's clammy and cool to the touch, and her hands are tremblin'," he said, as he noticed her twitching fingers.

"Did she have anything to drink?"

"Just water. Doc Breeland, she's not drunk – I think maybe she's sick."

There was a long moment of silence and Wade worried that he'd lost the connection. "Brick?"

"I'm still here, Wade. Look, she's not sick, but she does need treatment. I'm just turning onto the plantation road now – I'll be there in few more minutes. If she wakes up before I get there, give her some juice to drink." Brick disconnected the call.

Wade stared at the handset. "Well, shit!" he muttered, slamming it onto the base unit.

He didn't understand why juice was important, but he did as Brick told him and ran to his bar fridge, removing a bottle of orange juice and grabbing a clean glass from the cupboard. He raced back to his bed and sat on the side watching Zoe intensely. His leg bounced nervously as he waited for her to wake and Brick to get there, but neither one happened quickly, much to his dissatisfaction. A few minutes later, the sound of Brick's car reached him and his headlights lit up the living room as he drove around the pond and parked in front of Wade's Camaro.

"Door's open, Doc Breeland," Wade called with relief.

He hurried inside and straight over to the bed, and began checking Zoe's vital signs, her eyes and her breathing. Opening his medical bag, he took out a small zip case that looked like a shaving kit and removed two gadgets, which looked, to Wade's untrained eye, like an old-fashioned cell phone and a fat pen. "Pour some of that juice in a glass, Wade, 'til it's about half full," he commanded. He picked up Zoe's hand, pressed the end of the pen to the tip of a finger and pressed a button. Wade heard a click and then blood pooled on Zoe's skin.

Wade was shocked. "What … what are you doing, Doc?"

Dr Breeland looked at him consideringly for a moment, then appeared to make a decision. "I'm checkin' her blood glucose levels."

"Why?" The doc didn't answer. He just wiped a drop of her blood onto a narrow strip and stuck it into the other gadget. It blinked a few times, beeped and showed a reading Wade couldn't quite see on the small LCD window.

"Shit!" the doctor spat. "It's real low."

He dragged his bag over and pulled out a narrow red case containing a small bottle of white powder and a filled syringe. He worked quickly, plunging the contents of the syringe into the bottle, shaking it about to dissolve and then drawing the liquid back up through the needle. Wade thought he'd inject Zoe in the arm, but he flipped up her robe and nightgown, exposing her white cotton panties. He wiped an antiseptic swab over the soft part of her belly and pushed the needle in, depressing the plunger until it was empty.

"She should wake up in less than 15 minutes," Dr Breeland told Wade, as he rolled her onto her side facing the side of the bed. "You might want to get a bucket."

Wade blinked in shock and confusion, unable to get his head around what was happening. He rushed over to his kitchenette, grabbed a clean bucket from under his sink and handed it to the doctor. "What's wrong with her, Doc? You never answered me before." He was sure the doctor was about to answer when a commotion sounded from outside.

"Wade!" Lavon yelled as he pounded up the steps onto the porch. "I saw Dr Breeland's car arrive," he said as he entered the gatehouse in his pajamas. "What's goin' on? Are you sick?" Lavon skidded to a startled stop at the sight of an unconscious Zoe in Wade's bed.

AnnaBeth rushed in behind him. She gasped and brought her hands up to cover her mouth. "Oh, no!" she whispered, horrified.

"What did you do to her, Wade Kinsella?!" Lavon demanded.

"Me?! I didn't do nothing to her, you ass, I love this woman. I wouldn't ever hurt her," he growled.

AnnaBeth edged closer to Dr Breeland while they argued. "What happened?" she whispered. "I know about her condition," she confirmed, when Brick shot her a questioning glance.

"Low blood sugar."

AnnaBeth rolled her eyes. "I _told_ her to eat more, and drink less," she griped. "Will she be okay?"

Lavon and Wade stopped arguing long enough to realize a conversation was taking place that maybe they wanted to be involved in. Lavon pulled himself up to his most imposing height and flexed his biceps.

"Brick. What's goin' on with Zoe?" he demanded.

Before he could respond, Zoe moaned as she returned to consciousness and her face contorted as her body prepared to vomit. Wade rushed over to the bed, sitting beside her and holding the bucket under her face as she spewed over the side of the bed, then started crying. He scooped her hair back knowing she'd be mortified if she got it all chunky.

"Shssh," Wade soothed as she continued to retch. "AB, can you bring me a wet washcloth from the bathroom?" he asked softly. She nodded and rushed off, coming back in less than half a minute. Wade gently wiped Zoe's face and mouth clean when it looked like she'd finished.

"Zoe, drink some juice," Dr Breeland ordered, handing Wade the glass. He held it up to her mouth helping her sip the cool liquid. He noticed with relief, the color returning to her pale face and her trembling halted.

"What happened?" she croaked, when the glass was empty.

Dr Breeland faced her with a serious expression on his face and his hands planted against his hips. "Hypoglycemia," he stated bluntly. He counted off his fingers. "You either didn't eat enough; you overdosed or it was a combination of both."

"Sorry," she moaned, and then whined, "I didn't mean to."

"Most diabetics never do," he responded.

Lavon and Wade blinked.

Brick continued his scolding, completely unconcerned that he'd outed Zoe. "You promised me, Dr Hart, and already you've broken your word. Isn't that just like you – back one day and already you're causin' trouble." His expression softened and he winked at her.

"I really am sorry, Brick," she said, sniffling.

He patted her hand. "Just do better at monitoring your glucose levels and eat properly. AnnaBeth said you didn't eat much for dinner, but you drank alcohol." Zoe scowled at her friend, who glared back unremorseful.

Wade spoke up. "_What_, is goin' on?!" he demanded. "Since when has Zoe been a diabetic? And what did you mean by 'overdose'?" he quoted.

Brick, Zoe and AnnaBeth all looked at each other. Lavon stared at his fiancée with narrowed eyes, while Zoe dragged herself up against Wade's headboard.

"Six weeks ago," she answered Wade quietly. "Can I have some more juice, please?" Wade poured it for her and sat beside her on the bed while she sipped it. She told them all the same story she'd told AnnaBeth earlier, watching Wade's face carefully. His facial expressions ran the full gamut of emotions one expects to see, finally settling on … was that anger?

"Are you mad at me?" Zoe asked timidly.

"Yes!" Lavon boomed.

"Hush, Lavon," AB admonished.

Wade reared to his feet, stomping around agitatedly before coming back to stand in front of her. "Let me see if I understand this. You can correct me any time, Zoe" he said scornfully. She swallowed nervously, but nodded. "Do you mean to tell me that you, a doctor, brought on a hypoglycemic episode because you (he counted her offenses off on his fingers) didn't eat enough carbohydrate and protein; drank too much alcohol on a virtually empty stomach; forgot to check your glucose levels, and THEN," his voice rose and Zoe cringed, "you overdosed on insulin? Is that about right, Doc?"

Zoe made a face of reluctant agreement. "Well, when you put it like that, it looks bad, but I didn't overdose deliberately," she hurried to say; adding when Wade's face went red with fury, "I administered my normal evening dosage … I, um, just forgot to adjust for my lack of earlier appetite."

Brick interrupted. "You need to eat a snack, Zoe, and then a proper, well balanced meal for breakfast." He began packing up his bag, preparing to leave.

"Would you like to join us, Brick?" Lavon asked, wanting to question the older man about Zoe's condition and what it would mean to all of them.

"Thanks, Mayor, but Shelby's waitin' for me. I will see you tomorrow for our appointment, Dr Hart," he reminded Zoe.

Wade shook his hand and walked him to the door. "Thanks for everything, Brick. I appreciate it. God only knows how long she woulda kept this to herself."

"Hey! I wasn't going to," Zoe protested. The three remaining friends turned to glare at her reproachfully. "I wasn't! Ask AnnaBeth, if you don't believe me."

"It's true," the other woman confirmed. "She told me in the car comin' home from the airport that she was going to tell you, Wade. I just got it out of her first. She asked me not to say anythin' to you, because she wanted to do it herself. You, too, Lavon."

Zoe edged to the side of bed to stand up and caught sight of the bucket. Her lip curled at the sight of it. Ew.

"What are you doing, Doc?"

"I'm getting up, Wade."

"You should be resting," he ordered, rushing forward when she swayed and held her swimming head.

"No, I should be eating," she retorted, pulling out of his hold. "Do you have any crackers?"

"No. I've only got beer and salted peanuts, and I'm inclined to believe that neither of those things is on the approved food list for a diabetic."

She grimaced. "Okay, well I'll just go back to the carriage house, then. I've got an apple there and some crackers."

"Oh, no you will not," objected AnnaBeth. "You're both comin' up to the house for a proper snack and then a healthy breakfast."

Lavon nodded. "Yeah. Good plan, AB. I don't trust her out of my sight for a minute," he accused, pointing at Zoe. "We'll get to cookin' and see you up at the house momentarily," he said, ushering AB toward the door. A few seconds later, Lavon's Navigator started and tires crunched over gravel as he turned around and drove back to the plantation house.

Wade approached Zoe and pulled her into his arms, feeling profoundly happy that she was okay, but still worried about her and also a little pissed with her for being stupid. He rubbed her slender back through the soft, silky fabric of her robe.

"Are you ready to go? We'll eat and then we'll sleep and when we wake up, you and I are gonna have a long talk. I'll text the day manager at the Rammer Jammer and tell him I won't be in 'til much later."

"I need my glucose monitoring kit," Zoe said, "so I need to go back to my place first and I can't find my shoes."

Wade looked around, spying her white, fluffy, high-heeled, slip-on shoes under his sofa. "Here they are." He held them up. "What the hell _are_ these?"

Zoe pouted adorably. "They're boudoir slippers from Victoria's Secret. Gigi gave them to me for my birthday." She snatched them from his hands. "I think they're gorgeous." She slipped them on her feet, tightened her robe around her waist and marched as carefully as she could, considering she was still recovering, toward the door.

Wade followed with his car keys and directed her with a hand at her elbow toward his Camaro. "Get in," he ordered. She balked at his bossy behavior and he softened his approach to get her to be reasonable. "Please, Zoe. We'll stop by your place for your glucose kit and then go up to the main house for breakfast."

She chewed on her lip. "Okay."

"We have a lot to talk about," Wade reminded her.

"I know." She was silent during the ride to the carriage house. They walked inside together and she went to retrieve her kit from the bathroom. Wade waited in her bedroom, staring with bemusement at the four enormous suitcases lined up like soldiers. She'd only left with a weekend bag, and a small one at that. He knew, because he watched her pack.

"Zoe, just how much of New York did you buy before comin' back to Alabama?"

"Hmmm?" She came to the door of the bathroom, tying her hair back with a ribbon. Wade pointed at the suitcases.

"Oh, only one suitcase is my shopping. The other three cases contain the contents of my closet from my New York apartment."

Wade nearly choked. If he lived forever, he'd never understand why women needed so many clothes, shoes and handbags. "Where are you gonna put it all, Doc?" Wade said, as he walked her back out to the car.

She fluttered her lashes coquettishly. "I'm so glad you asked, Wade. You see, I'm gonna need a bigger closet." She smiled at him hopefully.

…

A/N: Photos for the chapter are on my blog at jkazziefanfiction dot wordpress dot com

Capisce (pronounced cah-PEESH) is an Italian word that is used in American slang to say 'got it' or 'understand'.

Hypoglycemia is a serious condition that can be fatal to diabetics if left untreated and they don't get their glucose levels up quickly, but hypoglycemia can affect anyone. Usually, it is characterized by sweating, tremors, confusion, and an intense desire to eat – the body's way of telling you there is a problem you need to take care of. All diabetics, whether those with type 1 or type 2, will likely suffer from hypoglycemia at some point.


	4. Chapter 4 - The Talk

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The CW is the author and owner of Hart of Dixie. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

…

AN: Thanks to all guest reviewers to chapters 1, 2 and 3. Your support is appreciated and I'm glad everyone is enjoying my story.

…

Chapter 4 – The Talk

"Earl!" Wade called as he searched his father's house. "Dad, are you here?" He came to a stop in the crappy kitchen with its laminate benches covered in dirty dishes and empty bottles. A few cabinet doors were hanging loose and one was missing entirely, exposing the clutter shoved into the old kitchen unit. Wade made a mental note to come back with his tool belt to make some repairs around the old house.

"Earl!"

"Whatcha hollerin' 'bout, boy? I'm in the shed," Earl Kinsella called back. That son of his was such a worrywart. He acted like he didn't give two hoots about his old dad most of the time, but Earl knew it was all bravado. Why else would Wade sing him off the roof of the hardware store every month and give him money. He waited for Wade at the door of the shed as he came striding across the dusty yard. The grass was long gone, seeing as he didn't take time no more to keep up with Jacqueline's garden. Didn't seem like much point to it, really, and it might interfere with his drinkin'.

"What are you doin' out here, old man? You answer me when I'm callin' you, you hear. I haven't got time to go searchin' for you if you wander off an' get yourself into trouble."

Earl had to fight not to smile at Wade's backhanded concern for his daddy. "Psshht, Wade, where am I gonna go? You took m' car keys years ago and the liquor store's closed, it being Sunday." Wade grunted. "What are you doing back here anyways? Two visits from you in the same week ain't normal."

Wade rolled his eyes, ignoring Earl's last remark. "I came for somethin'. Earl, do we still have Mom's old bicycle?"

Earl scratched his head. "Yeah, I think so. Last time I saw it was some time ago, but I think it's in the shed." He asked curiously, "Why d' ya want it – you lose your license or somethin'?"

Wade's eyes shifted away from Earl's gaze. His daddy had an uncanny talent for seeing and understanding more than he ever gave him credit for in the past, especially when it came to Wade's feelings for Zoe.

"Um, Zoe's back and she's talkin' about buyin' a bicycle. Figured it don't make much sense for her to spend money when there's a perfectly good ridin' bike right here she can use."

Earl cackled slyly. "So, ya girlfriend's back, is she? About time, too. You been surly like a raccoon caught in a trap since she up an' left for the city. What'd you do anyways to piss her off? You never did tell me."

Wade fumed. "Mind your own business! And why do ya always assume things are my fault?" he growled.

Earl cackled again, as he turned his back to walk into the shed. "'Cause they usually are. Your reputation with the ladies is legendary, Wade, even this far back in the woods. An' I hear things when I go to town. There's a whole lotta broken hearts in Alabama, son, an' all of 'em got your name on them."

Wade followed his father into the shed wanting to retort with some cutting remark that would shut Earl up, but he couldn't. The old man was right – about a lot of things, dammit! He sighed in resignation. "I cheated on her, alright, an' she found out." Wade left out the part about him coming clean to Zoe on his own.

Earl shot him a shrewd glance. "She forgive ya yet?" He pulled a tarp off a pile of junk at the back of the shed revealing the faded old bike in front. It looked a little worse for wear, but Wade reckoned he could fix it up.

"We're working on the forgiveness part," he admitted to his dad, as he pulled the bike free of the clutter. "She came back to BlueBell for good, and she wants to try again, so we're gonna date and get to know each other all over again."

Earl nodded. "Good, that's good. Don't mess up again, son, or you're likely to be alone and mis'rable for the rest of ya life like me, an' I want better than what I am for you."

Wade stared at the ground, bashfully scuffing his boot in the dirt. "You're not so bad, Dad, you just lost your way after Momma died, is all."

"Jus' the same, you pay proper attention to that pretty lady, you hear, and treat her like a princess, jus' like I did your momma. I'm expectin' the tiny doctor to give me grand-babies one day, and I ain't thinkin' their father's gonna be your brother."

Wade's eyes widened. "Geez, Earl, give us a chance will ya? We've only agreed to date, not get married."

Earl laughed and walked back to the house, leaving Wade to his own devices. He just knew things sometimes and his gut was tellin' him that Wade and the pretty lady were a match made in heaven … or p'rhaps, he was just hungry.

…

Wade knocked on the door of the carriage house at four in the afternoon and waited for Zoe to answer the door. After breakfast that morning, where Zoe had been subjected to an inquisition from him and Lavon, he'd sent her off to bed and he'd gone back to his own house. He would have loved to have slept with her in his arms, since he always slept better with Zoe in his bed, but she didn't suggest it and he didn't ask, thinking maybe it was too soon for those kind of liberties.

He heard her footsteps as she walked down the short hallway and then the door was opening. She stood in the aperture with the sun reflecting off her and she looked beautiful dressed as she was in tight jeans and a Crimson Tide t-shirt. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail highlighting her natural complexion, except for a lick of mascara, and she was barefoot, curling her tiny toes self-consciously as she hugged the door.

"Come in," she invited.

Wade hesitated. "Um, I was wonderin' if maybe you'd like to take a walk with me. It's a beautiful afternoon and the plantation is lookin' particularly fine this autumn."

She smiled. "Sure, I'd like that. Come on in, while I put some shoes on."

Wade sat on her sofa to wait, while Zoe disappeared into her armoire for footwear. She reappeared with a pair of high-heeled, leather clogs in her hands, which would no doubt showcase her shapely legs to perfection, but she was more likely to break her ankle if he let her wear _them_ to tramp all over the plantation.

"Um, doc, I know you have a particularly close relationship with shoes that I'm never gonna understand, but those things," he shook his head, "are all wrong for walking along dirt tracks and through long grass."

She blinked and looked down at them, disappointed. "Oh. Well, okay. What do you suggest?"

"Your Doc Maarten's there will be perfect," he said, noting the discarded boots on the floor by an open suitcase. He waited while she pulled on socks and shoes, and filled a fanny pack with a small bottle of water, her phone and hard candy for a glucose hit if she needed it. "I brought you a cap to wear," Wade said, as he stood up and pulled it from his waist at the small of his back. "It's Crimson Tide, so it'll match your t-shirt."

"Ah." She smiled at him. "Great minds think alike, then." He slipped it over her head, and she reached back to pull her ponytail through the gap at the back. Slipping her sunglasses over her eyes, she declared herself ready. "Let's go, then."

They walked in silence for a long while, both of them nervous about how to start the conversation they both knew they needed to have. Inexplicably, they both spoke at once.

"Doc." "Wade." "You go first," the both offered, smiling at their mutual awkwardness.

"You start, Doc," Wade said. "I figure you have the right to ask whatever it is you want to know. I'll answer as honestly as I know how."

She twisted her hands fretfully, taking her time as they walked along. "Why'd you do it?" Ah, the million dollar question.

He blew out a breath. "I've asked myself that same question a thousand times these past few months."

"So have I," Zoe said.

"Yeah, well at first, I blamed it on bein' drunk out of my head and bein' in a dark place. I counted on that prize money as the only way to make my dreams come true, and then I messed it up on purpose by firing George as lead singer." They walked a few more yards before he continued. "I always knew that Meatball's voice could scour rust off a pipe, but I figured if I lost with him singing, then it wouldn't be my fault that I couldn't afford to start up my own bar. I lost sight of what people had been tellin' me in this town for years, even you in roundabout kind of way – that I'd have to work for the life I wanted."

"That kind of thinking is self-destructive, Wade," Zoe counseled. "Not the working hard part, but sabotaging yourself whenever something huge is within your reach. You can't act like that, or you're never going to succeed at anything, except – "

"What?" Wade asked curiously.

"Women!" Zoe spat.

He grinned. "Woman," he corrected.

"What?"

"_Woman_. You. You are the only female I want in my life in that way. All the rest are just pretty to look at, nothin' more."

"I'm glad to hear it," Zoe said, then deadpanned, "but Burt Reynolds _will _be disappointed."

Wade shot her a sideways glance at the reminder. "Ahem, yeah about that girl – "

"Claudette, or Carla or whatever her name is," Zoe added tersely.

"Um, yeah. I went off with her 'cause I wanted you to find out that I cheated and dump me."

Zoe gasped and plopped down onto a fallen log, unable to stand in the face of her astonishment. He _wanted _her to find out about Claret and dump him. _What the hell!_ She pulled the cap off her head and gaped at him.

Wade hunkered down in front of her. His shame told him to look at the ground, but his conscience told him to look her in the eye. "Zoe, everything between us had been goin' so well. I finally felt like George Tucker wasn't comin' between us and I knew then that I was in love with you, but I didn't have anythin' to offer you and no prospects of changin' that anytime soon. When you gave me that neon sign showing your faith in me, I knew I'd never be able to end it myself, 'cause you meant _everything_ to me and I was selfish enough to want to hang on to you," he whispered. "So, I did the one thing I was certain would make you end it."

Zoe wiped tear tracks from her cheeks. She hugged herself and sniffled. "You hurt me so much, Wade," she whimpered, looking at him sadly. "I've never felt such pain before, not even when I got dumped after a six year relationship." Her breath hitched. "Your betrayal hurt me worse than when I thought George was marrying Lemon. For the first time in my life, Wade, I couldn't breathe."

"I'm sorry," he said, genuinely remorseful.

Zoe sniffled loudly, all clogged up with congestion. She was searching her jeans for a Kleenex, when Wade pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.

"It's clean."

"Thanks," she said, shaking it out to blow her nose loudly.

"Are we okay?" Wade asked tentatively.

"We will be," she said, taking a deep breath, "but, Wade, you had no right deciding for me that you had nothing to offer. That was my decision to make. You being a bartender never bothered me. All I saw was a man who worked hard at two jobs trying to make the best living he could considering his circumstances. You had Earl to look after, and I _know_ that a big portion of your income went on paying _his_ bills and feeding him."

Wade blushed, uncomfortable with Zoe's praise. "You didn't always think that, though," he said shyly. "I recall at least two occasions when you considered me irresponsible and childish."

"Yes, I did, but that was before I got to know you, and you thought I was certifiably crazy, so I think we're even."

Wade smirked. "Who said I don't still think that?"

Zoe whacked him in the chest, and he toppled onto his butt. "Shut up!" They laughed together, relieving some of the tension.

"Seriously, though, Wade, don't do that again. This," she waved between them, "only has a chance of working if we trust each other." He nodded, decisively in agreement. "Oh, and if Chlorine ever comes to BlueBell, you better tell her to skedaddle, 'cause if I get wind of her, well, let me just say that my proficiency with a scalpel – it isn't a baseless rumor."

Wade's eyes widened in alarm, and dare he think it, a modicum of amusement. She was cute when she was jealous.

"Okay, it's your turn," Zoe offered, inhaling deeply. "I'm ready. Let me have it."

Wade stood up and held out his hand. "Let's walk," he invited, and Zoe placed her hand in his. He held tight, interlocking their fingers, and they walked together in silence toward the eastern most boundary of the plantation.

After a while, Wade spoke. "I really only have one question." Zoe glanced at him. She was pretty sure she knew what it was: George. "I know you said you didn't come back because of George Tucker," (Yep!) "but I – I can't do this again if you've still got unresolved feelings for him."

"I don't," she assured him quickly.

"See, I hear you sayin' that, doc, but the pain you said you felt when I cheated on you – " (she nodded) "that's how I felt when I thought you were jus' killing time with me 'til George was free, or sowed his wild oats after Lemon, or whatever the heck it was you told him to do."

Zoe stopped and faced Wade, taking his other hand in her free one. She had to crane her head back quite a bit to look him in the eyes – at a hair over six feet tall, he was a good twelve inches taller than her without her high-heels.

"I am so sorry I made you feel that way, Wade, and if I'm being honest with you, I did initially enter into our casual arrangement to take my mind off George." Wade looked gutted at her confession, releasing her hands and turning his head to the side so she wouldn't see how much she'd hurt him. Zoe gently took hold of his chin and urged him to look at her. His eyes were glassy with pain and it was like a knife through her heart, but they both needed honesty to get past all of the hurt.

"Being with you was what I needed. You were fun and passionate and creative, and you filled a gaping chasm in me that I didn't know how to close." Wade swallowed sickly. Zoe cupped his face in her small hands, scratching gently at the soft scruff growing along his jaw line. "When I asked you to be my out-in-public boyfriend, it was because I was falling for you – big time. I _wanted_ to be with you. Being monogamous, casual lovers wasn't enough for me anymore, and when you agreed to be my boyfriend, I thought you felt the same way."

"I did," he confirmed hoarsely, reflexively rubbing his face against her warm palm.

She smiled wanly. "That first month together was so wonderful – it was like a dream, and I imagined myself in love with you more often than not. Then Lavon said that the real test of our relationship would be how I'd deal with you when you reverted to your true colors, and somehow, from that point on, things started to go wrong between us."

"I'll kill him!" Wade gritted.

Zoe rolled her eyes. "No, you won't."

"Why not?!"

"Because he's our friend and he didn't mean anything by it."

"Doesn't mean it won't make me feel better," he groused.

Zoe ignored his grumbling and continued with her explanation. "You were catching up with Meatball and then we argued during _First Feast_ – in front of the whole town, all because I didn't want us to emulate my parents, who fought _all the time_. Then you were busy playing with the band and fighting off Lily Anne Lonergan, while I was consumed by the flu epidemic. And after that, I neglected you. I was so wrapped up in my patients and enjoying the feeling of being needed that I totally missed the fact that you needed me, too," Zoe sobbed. "The final kicker was not supporting _your_ decisions about _your_ band. I'm so sorry, Wade, but I think I may have unintentionally sabotaged us, as well. I set us up to fail from the moment Lavon spoke those words." Zoe was crying a river of tears at the end of her monologue.

"I'm _definitely_ gonna kill him!" Wade swore.

Zoe giggled and then cried harder, collapsing against Wade's chest. His arms came around her and he hugged her tightly, rubbing his hands over her back in a soothing motion.

"You didn't sabotage us, doc."

"Yes, I did!" she wailed.

"No, you _didn't_. I've been sabotaging myself for twenty years, I know what it looks like and what you described – that wasn't it. You only wanted the best for us, and you were totally cool about Lily Anne even _after_ I told you she made a pass at me. And, that thing with the band and Meatball – that was just you trying to help me, 'cause you believed in me."

She looked up at him and sniffled, blinking rapidly to clear the moisture from her eyes. She didn't know about Wade, but she was emotionally exhausted. He cupped her face like she had done to his before, brushing his thumbs like feathers across her cheeks and under her lashes. Lowering his head, his mouth captured her lips in a gentle kiss of love, apology and forgiveness.

…

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please review and let me know what you think.


	5. Chapter 5 - Friends and Enemies

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The CW is the author and owner of Hart of Dixie. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

…

AN: Thanks for the reviews to chapter 4.

…

Chapter 5 – Friends and Enemies

Wade loped into the kitchen of the main house a little before 7 am on Monday morning. Coffee was priority one on his agenda, and then he had to head to the Rammer Jammer to meet the liquor and seafood deliveries, since Monday was traditionally Lemon's day off. Lavon was sitting at the counter drinking a steaming brew and reading the local paper.

"Mornin', Lavon."

He didn't bother to look up. Lavon wasn't really a morning person. "Hey."

Wade reached for the coffee pot, filling his travel flask and then a mug with coffee, leaving the empty carafe on the kitchen counter. "Anythin' new and excitin' in the world today?"

Lavon snorted. "Not really. With the Gazette's limited budget, if the news didn't transpire within a fifty mile radius, it never happened." He snapped the broadsheet closed. "Oh, but the OWLS _are_ hostin' a Harry Potter© party this Saturday."

"Why?" asked Wade, truly mystified.

"Seems it's _International Children's Day_. The OWLS are puttin' on a charity event to raise money for new computers at the elementary school, and Dash DeWitt thought with them being OWLS an' all, the popularity of a witches and wizards celebration would be a hit with the children."

"Another kooky day in BlueBell," Wade muttered, swiping a warm muffin from the baking tray. He began planning where he and the doc could escape to, 'til the madness was over.

"What was that?" Lavon queried.

"I _said, _another spectacular day in BlueBell."

Lavon grinned slyly. "Glad you think so, 'cause they're lookin' for volunteer chaperones."

Wade's eyes widened in horror, knowing what was coming. "I'm busy," he quickly refused, and bit into the muffin.

Lavon snickered. "No, you're not. I already checked with Zoe, and she said you'd both be happy to participate."

Wade choked, coughed and spluttered. "She did _what_?!" he croaked in bewilderment. "_Why _would she do_ that_?" He chased the coarse tasteless cake down his gullet with a slurp of coffee. "That was _narsty_, Lavon! What's it 'sposed to be, anyway? It tastes like frickin' cardboard!" Wade hit the foot pedal on the trash bin and lopped the muffin in, sweeping the tray in after it.

"Health muffin. You can collect your costumes on Friday. You're Dumbledore and Zoe's McGonagall. The party starts at midday in town square. Don't be late."

Wade scowled, but resigned himself to going since Zoe wanted to involve herself in town functions. He picked a bit of chaff from his teeth with a toothpick. "Who're you goin' as?" he mumbled. "Hagrid?"

Lavon found sudden new interest in his discarded newspaper, making Wade suspicious. "You are!" he accused, smirking with relish. Oh, he was gonna have some fun with this come Saturday. He headed for the door with his travel flask in hand, sniggering loudly.

"See ya, Wade."

"Yeah, later, man." He stopped at the threshold of the door and turned around. "Oh, hey, Lavon?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you recall a conversation with the doc when we were together b'fore, 'bout me eventually returnin' to my true colors?" Lavon's eyes widened guiltily. "Uh huh," Wade intoned, "and do you remember tellin' her that how she chose to _deal _with those true colors would define our future relationship – or something to that effect?" Wade muttered sarcastically.

Lavon gulped. "Um … I seem to recall something like that takin' place, 'cept I think I referred to your true nature rather than colors," he admitted reluctantly.

Wade shot him a filthy look. "Uh huh, same thing – and would you be surprised at all to learn just how much value Zoe placed on that advice, seein' as it came from – oh, I don't know – her best friend in all of BlueBell?!" he yelled sarcastically.

Lavon slumped at the counter, a slack jawed expression of dismay on his face. "We was just talkin' about how things were goin' so good for you both a month into the relationship. I said it was the _honeymoon period_ and things were always great at first –" Lavon trailed off, abruptly realizing how what he'd said may have put ideas into the crazy doctors head. "Naw. Naw. Naaaww," he whined in denial.

Wade stomped over to the kitchen island, banging his coffee flask onto the counter. "Dammit, Lavon! Yes. Yes. Yes! Zoe's decided in that mixed up head a' hers that _she_ helped to sabotage our relationship by headin' off my inevitable color change."

"Nature," Lavon corrected.

"_Whatever!_ I'm not a frickin' chameleon, ya know! I am capable of growin' and changin' for the better – despite all historical evidence to the contrary," he mocked, "and with her, I _was_ different. I wanted to be a better man – for Zoe." He scratched the back of his neck and exhaled roughly. "God only knows what she's gonna do on our second go-round to make sure the so called 'honeymoon period' lasts forever," Wade quoted facetiously.

Lavon stood up, and clapped Wade on the shoulder in apology. "Wade, man, I am so sorry."

Wade scowled, but accepted his friend's apology. "Look, it's okay. I'm not gonna kill you – Zoe said I wasn't allowed to, but I'm askin' you, Lavon, to be careful in future. With Zoe, it's not so much what you say, but how you say it," Wade remarked insightfully.

"Yeah. Yeah, I will," he promised, nodding his head vigorously. Lavon's face stretched into his trademark grin of bright white teeth and sparkling brown eyes. "But look on the bright side, Wade."

He made a face of disbelief. "_What_ bright side?"

"Now that you know about it, you can head her off - _before_ she goes nuts on you a second time."

Wade frowned, but acknowledged that there was indeed a bright side. Knowledge was a powerful tool when it came to dealing with Zoe Hart. "Yeah, okay, there is that. I gotta go or I'm gonna be late," he said, heading to the door.

"Um, where is Z this mornin'? I thought for sure she'd be with you?" Lavon called.

Wade spoke over his shoulder, halfway through the door, "She's havin' breakfast with Rose at the Butter Stick and then she's meetin' AB to go shoppin' – though what else she could possibly need, remains a mystery to me," Wade drawled, genuinely perplexed.

"You'd do better not to wonder. When AB moved in, I had to convert a small bedroom as a walk-in closet for her. When I asked her why she needed so much stuff, she tried to explain it to me – in detail. It was the most horrific hour of my life," Lavon shared, shuddering.

Wade snickered. "Yep, I learnt that the hard way when I was married to Tansy. Don't ask, just accept – it's less painful that way. Oh, by the way, if you see the doc before me, keep her away from George Tucker," he said seriously, as a parting comment.

"What? Why? You're not still worried about their feelings for each other, are you? Zoe came back for you, Wade, not George Tucker."

"It's not that –"

"Then, why?" Lavon interrupted. "I know George's drinkin' an' all, but he's mostly harmless."

"Yeah, Golden Boy's a real gentleman," Wade snarled. "Look, I don't have time to explain, Lavon, but I'm not so sure 'bout George's … mental stability," he finally said. "Just … keep them away from each other 'til I can explain." Wade shut the door behind him.

"Now what?" Lavon mumbled miserably.

…

Zoe parked her car in the main street, just down from the Butter Stick Bakery. It was a gorgeous day and she was looking forward to catching up with Rose and then shopping with AnnaBeth. She waved to the many residents she saw across the town square, outwardly feigning nonchalance when most of them ignored her or walked the other way. As she strolled along the sidewalk, not paying attention to where she was going, she _literally_ ran into Shula Whitaker coming out of the Bakery – a sweet tea and a white bakery bag in her hands.

"Oops, sorry," Zoe said quickly. "Ms Whitaker!" Zoe reached out and hugged the hapless woman who stood stiffly with outstretched arms.

"Why, Dr Hart, I heard you were back – read all about it on Dash's blog," she said, once Zoe released her.

Zoe smiled weakly. _Damned blog!_ "Hmm, nothing's a secret in BlueBell with the '_Blawker'_ telling the news, is it?" She didn't really expect an answer. "How are you Ms Whitaker – is that rash all gone? And, _how is_ Prince Perfection?"

Shula beamed. There was nothing more she liked to talk about than her 'failing' health and her old cat. "Oh, Dr Hart, you're so sweet to ask. Prince Perfection won best-in-show at the _BlueBell Petacular Pageant_."

Zoe's brow quirked in ignorance. "What the heck is the _Petacular Pageant_? Another zany town event?" she mocked, speaking without checking her filter. Shoot!

Shula's face fell and Zoe hurried to smooth her faux pas. "Oh, I'm sorry, Ms Whitaker. I didn't mean for that to sound so cynical. I love, love this town's wacky character. It makes BlueBell home, and I am back for good. I'm even chaperoning with Wade and Lavon at the Harry Potter party on Saturday," she imparted cheerfully.

"Oh, yes, Dr Hart," Shula gushed happily, "witches and wizards running all over town square will be great fun. I'm making some of the costumes, you know. What character are you?"

Zoe breathed a sigh of relief – catastrophe averted. "I'm Professor McGonagall and Wade's going as Dumbledore."

"Oh, you'll make a wonderful witch. I've got most of your dress sewn up already, but I need you to come for a dress fitting on Thursday night. Can you come to my house at 7 pm? And bring Wade and Lavon with you. I'm making their costumes, as well."

"Sure thing, Ms Whitaker. Now, I really need to go. I'm meeting Rose Hattenbarger for breakfast and I see her waving at me from inside the bakery."

"You have a good day, Dr Hart. I'll be makin' an appointment to come and see you on Wednesday, my lumbago's playing up again."

Zoe smiled. Shula Whitaker's lumbago was the one medical condition she actually did suffer from. All the rest of her complaints were just figments of her imagination – for the most part. "I'll look forward to it, Ms Whitaker. You have a good day, too, and I want to hear all about Prince Perfection's winning moment when I see you on Wednesday." Shula beamed and waddled off along the sidewalk, a spring in her step. "One down, 2,124 more people to go," Zoe muttered as she pulled the door to the bakery open and stepped inside.

Rose jumped up from her seat. "Zoe! OMG, I'm so glad to see you. I missed you," she squealed, as she rushed around the table to hug her friend. Zoe hugged her back before taking a seat.

"I missed you, too, Rose. Brief phone calls and emails just don't make up for not seeing each other nearly every day."

"I know, and I have so much to tell you –" Rose was off, determined to tell Zoe the highlights of the past three months in the hour and half they had together before she needed to leave for school. Zoe mainly listened, interrupting occasionally to make a comment or ask a question, while sneaking glimpses at the menu. She was starving.

"Let's order, Rose, I could eat a horse this morning," Zoe said, after they'd been seated for half an hour. She tried a few times to catch the eye of the server, but she blatantly ignored her signal.

Rose frowned at the rude waitress, mumbling, "That Betty-Lou Skinnard is the most useless waitress in all of Alabama. Don't worry about her, Zoe, she's just jealous of you because Wade turned her down more times than she can count over the summer – and I mean that literally; the girl's dumber than a wet post." Zoe laughed. "What do you want? I'll go up to the counter and order."

"Thanks, Rose. Eventually, people will either forget to blame me for everything wrong in BlueBell or they'll forgive me for leaving for three months. I can wait – I'm a New Yorker." Rose smiled and winked in agreement. "I'll have the natural muesli with fresh berries and Greek yogurt, and a coffee," Zoe ordered.

Rose's expression reflected her curiosity. "What, no waffles or pancakes dripping with butter and maple syrup? That's not like you."

Zoe pulled her purse off the back of her chair to duck to the bathroom. "I'm just trying to set a good example for the town," she fibbed. "I can't expect my patients to accept my advice about diet, if I'm always eating the things I'm telling them not to. I'll be back in a moment," she said, walking towards the door with the silhouette of a 1800s Belle prominently displayed on the panel.

Five minutes later, she was back at the table having measured her glucose levels and injected her daytime insulin. She planned to tell Rose everything – just not in the middle of the Butter Stick with four of the town's Belles watching and listening, and Lemon Breeland on speed-dial.

"So, tell me about you and Wade?" Rose whispered, leaning across the table so the Belles wouldn't hear. They were staring avidly at Zoe's table, making no secret of their interest in the town doctor.

Zoe blushed and leaned towards Rose. "Well, we had a long talk about things, and we're going to try again." Rose squealed and clapped her hands. "Now, don't get too excited. We're just dating at the moment. I told Wade I loved him (more squealing) and he told me he still feels the same way." Rose was almost bouncing in her seat. Anyone would think she just kissed Prince Harry the way she was carrying on.

"When's your first date? Where are you going? What are you going to wear? Talking of wearing, what's going on?" she gasped, as she ran out of air and waved at Zoe's outfit.

Zoe looked down at her clothes. "What do you mean?"

"You're wearing lavender jeans and a white crocheted sweater. You look great, but I've rarely seen you wear anything other than black or other strong colors."

She smiled. "It's my new look." She chewed on her lip worriedly. "Are you sure I look okay? I was a bit nervous about the jeans this morning."

"I'm positive, Zoe. You look fantastic – I _want_ a pair of lavender jeans. Just don't start dressing like Lemon Breeland or I might have to stage an intervention," she warned seriously.

Zoe snorted. "There's no chance of that." Her stomach grumbled hungrily and she fiddled with the grape jelly and honey portions on the table. She feared she might have to duck into the bathroom to eat a few if her breakfast didn't arrive shortly. "What is taking them so long? How long does it take to pour muesli into a bowl? What? Are they harvesting the oats from the garden with a scythe?!"

Rose laugh-snorted. "I've missed your brutal candor, Zoe. I'll go check how long it'll be. I'm hungry, too, and I have to leave in thirty minutes if I'm gonna get to school on time." Rose walked to the serving counter and waited in line to speak with Agnes – the proprietress of the Butter Stick Bakery. Agnes appeared baffled by whatever Rose was saying, and they both stared accusingly at Betty-Lou Skinnard. She shifted guiltily like she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, and beat a hasty retreat into the storeroom on the pretext of needing to refill the napkin holders.

Rose and Agnes approached the table and Rose took her seat. "Dr Hart, I'm so sorry you've been waiting so long for your breakfast," Agnes said sweetly. She really was a lovely and welcoming BlueBell resident. "I had no idea you hadn't been served, and then after having placed your own orders at the counter, that silly girl didn't tell the kitchen. I assure you, your food will be out in less than five minutes and it's on the house today."

Zoe smiled and waved Agnes' remorse off airily. "It's fine, Agnes. These things happen, and there's no need to ignore our bill – it wasn't your fault."

"Perhaps not directly, but this is my business and Betty-Lou is my employee. I won't have anyone say that Agnes Trusdale doesn't admit when she's wronged a customer."

Zoe's eyes widened. "Oh, but I wouldn't –"

"Oh, I _know_, Dr Hart. I wasn't implying that _you_ would, but (she bent low to speak quietly) those Belles over there in the corner would just love to report any negativity to Dash DeWitt, after the debacle with the cakes at the _Hummingbird Festival_." She hurried back to the front counter.

"What debacle at the _Hummingbird Festival_?" Zoe asked Rose eagerly. "First, Shula Whitaker told me about the _Petacular Pageant_ and now, a _Hummingbird Festival_. It sounds like BlueBell was busy over the summer."

Agnes sent another server over to the table with their coffees and Zoe poured in a generous portion of sugar. Since she'd taken her insulin nearly forty minutes ago, she needed to offset its effects with some quick acting carbohydrates.

Rose blinked in surprise. "Since when do you take sugar in your coffee?"

Zoe sipped deeply from the brew. "Oh, I don't usually, but I'm hungry. I figure the sugar will keep me going until the food arrives. Now, tell me about these festivals," she invited, hoping to distract the inquisitive teenager.

…

Zoe and Rose walked across the town square toward the high school. "So, what did you want to tell me that you couldn't say over breakfast?" Zoe had asked Rose to walk with her for a few minutes so they could talk in private.

She stopped near the gazebo and twisted her hands nervously. "Okay, here's the thing. Something happened to me over the summer. I was working really hard and I got sick –" Zoe launched into the abridged version of discovering she had diabetes and what it meant for her. Rose was naturally shocked and concerned, but Zoe promised they would talk later and they made a date to meet at Zoe's place on Wednesday evening after Zoe finished work. "You'd better get going, Rose, or you're going to be late. Now, remember, only you, Lavon, AnnaBeth and Wade know – and Dr Breeland," she added. "I don't plan to announce my medical history to the whole town, so keep it to yourself, okay?"

Rose hugged her. "I promise. I'll see you Wednesday. I love you, Zoe."

Zoe felt drawn to tears by Rose's unconditional affection. "I love you, too, Rose." She watched as the young girl hurried across the square and up the front steps of the school, just as the last bell rang for morning classes. Heading for her car, she decided to go home and wait for AnnaBeth and their shopping date. She didn't notice the presence of one of BlueBell's former MOTYs or the expression of loathing on his face as she drove away.

…

Wade was wiping down tables at the Rammer Jammer after the breakfast rush, when in walked the two people he most wanted to see that day, other than Zoe Hart. Brick Breeland and Sheriff Bill Pickett took a seat at the bar and ordered coffee from Cody.

"I'll get it, Cody," Wade said, wanting to speak with the other two men in relative privacy. "The bar's quiet for now, so you can go on fifteen minute break. After that, head on into town and pick up the mail from the post office." Wade tossed him the post box key from the junk bowl behind the bar.

"Sure thing, Wade."

Wade poured three mugs of coffee and passed two across the counter. "Excuse me, gentlemen, but I need to talk to you both 'bout somethin' important," Wade said, interrupting their conversation about fishing.

Brick slurped his coffee. "What is it? If it's medical, I have a free appointment you can use."

Wade shook his head. As if he'd go to Brick Breeland for treatment when Zoe was available. He had nothing against Dr Breeland, it's just that Zoe was his doctor now – 'cept for manly things that is – he couldn't imagine goin' to his girl for somethin' like them. "No, it's not medical – well, yes it might be, but it's not about me. It's about George Tucker."

"What about him?" Sheriff Bill asked.

Wade leaned across the bar and spoke quietly. "It's his drinkin'. It's out of control. He was in here Saturday night and I had to come back at closin' time to drive him home. Took me an hour to sober him up enough to get him out to the car."

Brick's face expressed concern. "Yes, I've noticed that he's drinking far more than he ever has before. He was pretty liquored up when I was eating dinner here that same night."

"Yeah, he was, and he was worse by 2 am. I'm worried about him, Brick, and I've decided I'm cuttin' him off. I haven't talked to Lemon about it yet, but he's on the verge of becomin' a menace to himself and the rest of the town. I confiscated his car keys on Saturday so he wouldn't kill anyone if he tried to drive. He can eat here and order non-alcoholic drinks, but that's it – I'm not servin' him booze no more."

Sheriff Bill nodded in agreement. "I think you've made the right decision, Wade. I'd hate to have to write George up on a DUI charge – it wouldn't do his reputation or his career as the town lawyer any favors."

"What do you want us to do, Wade?" asked Brick.

Wade fidgeted nervously, wondering how Brick might react to his proposal. "I was wonderin'… if you could get George some type of help gettin' off the booze? He was almost your son-in-law and he was part of your family for fifteen years. I'm afraid he's becomin' BlueBell's next Crazy Earl."

Brick considered for a moment. "I'll see what I can do, Wade, but unless George admits he has a problem and asks for help, there's not a lot I can do medically or legally."

Wade nodded. He was afraid of that.

"You already said you took his keys, so at least he's not driving," Brick reminded.

"Yep, and I parked his truck around the back, so it's not sittin' out front of the bar, but he must have a spare set of keys somewhere. It's just a matter of time b'fore he finds them and comes for his vehicle one night – most probably after we're closed."

Sheriff Bill spoke up. "I'll keep an eye out for him and I'll tell the deputies to do the same, 'specially at night, and I'll have a chat with Andy over at the liquor store and ask him to cut George off, as well. That's 'bout all I can do unless he causes a disturbance, or tries to hurt someone, since it ain't illegal to drink."

"Well, that's the thing, Sheriff Bill," Wade said urgently. "George threatened to run Zoe over in his truck if he got the chance."

"What?!" both men yelled. "Are you sure?" they said. They sounded like a couple of parrots.

"Yes, I'm sure. He was drunk out of his head when he said it, but I know what I heard. He was ramblin' after I took him home on Saturday night, talkin' about when Zoe first came to BlueBell and he gave her a ride into town. He said if he'd known then that she'd mess up his life, he would've run her down, and then he said he'd still do it if he got the chance. He bragged about being able to make it look like an accident."

Sheriff Bill straightened up importantly on his stool. "Well now, Wade, that's an entirely different matter. George can't go round makin' death threats – even in jest. Someone might think he was serious and take matters into their own hands," he said pointedly, staring at Wade in friendly warning.

He nodded imperceptibly in understanding. He wasn't about to jeopardize his business or his life with Zoe for George Tucker, but he wouldn't stand idly by while Zoe was in imminent danger, either. "That's why I'm talkin' to you, Sheriff. I'm plannin' on tellin' Zoe to stay away from him, but you know how she is. She hears every suggestion as an order, and if she thinks she can help him, she'll do whatever it takes, no matter what I say. And I know she feels bad about how things ended for George in June."

"Don't you worry none about that, Wade. I'll talk to Dr Hart m'self and tell her to steer clear of George Tucker for awhile," said Sheriff Bill.

Brick nodded in agreement. "Yes, and I'll do the same. Dr Hart and I have an appointment this afternoon, and I'll advise her to avoid George for the time being. I'll say that I've been treatin' him for depression over what happened, and he has unresolved anger towards her. I won't be lyin' entirely, except for the depression part, but I'm beginning to think depression's part of his problem."

Wade exhaled, feeling better now that two of the town's prominent leaders were involved. "Good, I'll speak to Lavon later. What about Lemon? She'd serve him alcohol just to spite me, 'specially if she knows it's because of Zoe."

Brick's face hardened. "You leave Lemon to me. That little girl of mine is getting on my last nerve and she's just about pushed me as far as I'm willing to let her go. She's been acting churlish and talking nasty to Shelby more than usual, and she's rubbing off on Magnolia in ways I don't really appreciate. I used to be so proud of Lemon, but lately –"

"Addie says she's jealous," Bill spoke up, and then his eyes widened when he realized his indiscretion.

"Of _who_?" Wade said, not sure he believed it was jealousy.

"Well now, I don't rightly know and I've said more 'an I prob'ly should have," Bill said, backpedaling.

Brick clapped him on the back. "Don't stop now, Bill, tell us what you know. I could use all the help I can get with Lemon at the moment."

Bill huffed in resignation. "Alright, but please don't tell Addie I told you." Brick and Wade nodded. "Okay, Addie says Lemon's jealous of everyone." His audience waited expectantly and Bill rolled his eyes. "You got Shelby, Brick; Lavon and AnnaBeth are engaged; Tom and Wanda Long are havin' a baby; George has been moanin' about how he misses Tansy, and Wade's been waitin' patiently for Zoe to come home even though she ignored him for three months. Addie says it's made Lemon realize that she's all alone with no prospects, and she used to be the girl in town all the other girls wanted to be like."

Brick chuckled in disbelief, disregarding the theory. "Well, that's just plain silly. Lemon has plenty of prospects. She's young and beautiful and accomplished. She owns her own business –"

"Co-owns," Wade reminded him. Brick pretended he didn't hear and kept talking.

"She's a successful business woman, head of the Belles and I know for a fact that she's seein' that biologist she met in Mobile. I think he was working on the oil cleanup over the summer." Brick looked at Wade for confirmation.

He shook his head. "It fizzled out. His contract ended and he went back to New Orleans; plus Lemon found out he was married when his wife turned up one weekend with his two kids in tow."

"What?" Brick uttered in shock.

"Yeah, she was real torn up about it. Said she never expected to be the other woman – that was Zoe Hart's job. Took to spendin' most of her time in the office workin' on paperwork and band bookings. Our accountant said he's never seen such a perfect set of books."

Brick stood up abruptly. "I've got to go. Thank you for the information, gentlemen – it explains a lot." He headed out of the bar. "Put the coffee on my account, Wade, and I'll speak to George and Zoe – after I speak to Lemon," he added, with determination.

"I've got to go, too, Wade," Sheriff Bill said, throwing a dollar on the bar counter. "We'll keep an eye on George and if he says anything else, you let me know. In the meantime, I'll speak to him about makin' threats against Dr Hart, but if he was as drunk as you say he was, he may not remember."

After Bill and Brick left, Wade was alone in the bar, apart from the kitchen staff who were doing prep work for the lunch crowd. He dumped the coffee mugs into the dishwasher and wiped down the bar, deciding to count the weekend takings and do the bank run. He ignored Brick's direction to add the coffee to his bar tab, and pushed the sheriff's dollar bill into the charity jar he'd agreed to host for Rose Hattenbarger's _'Save the Whales'_ fund.

Cody came in from his errand to the post office just as Wade was asking Wanda to keep an eye on the front of house while he was in the office. He handed the mail to his boss, and then tied on his apron, relieving Wanda before she even got started. She hurried back to the kitchen.

"Hey, boss, since when do you get the _New York Times_ delivered to you?" Cody inquired curiously. He nodded toward the rolled up newspaper in the mail bag.

"Look after the bar, Cody, I'll be in the office if you need me," Wade said, ignoring the question. Cody shrugged and got back to work. The longer than usual break from the monotony of the bar work had been nice, and he'd stopped by the Butter Stick to chat up Betty-Lou Skinnard before heading over to the post office – the free coffee he walked away with a happy bonus.

…

"Are you sure about this, AB?" Zoe stood in front of the full length mirror in BlueBell's only dress shop of any note, and examined the dress she wore with a critical eye. "I've never really been all that into insects, and particularly not those anyone expected me to wear."

"They're butterflies, Zoe, and yes, I'm sure. You asked for my help and this dress is me being helpful. It's pretty and feminine and the colors and style are perfectly suited to Alabama's mild fall season. You can wear it with those Gucci shoes and bag you showed me this morning, and look (she grabbed a wide leather belt from the accessories table) this will cinch in your waist nicely and tie all of the pieces together."

Zoe fastened the belt around her waist, trying to imagine the completed ensemble in her head. The belt _was_ in the same color tone as her bag and shoes, and the dress _was_ pretty, comfortable and cool. Even though it was autumn, the temperature was still in the mid to high 80s and the humidity was playing havoc with her hair.

"Okay, I'll take it. What else do you have for me?"

AB whipped out a hanger holding a pair of tailored shorts (a little longer than Zoe normally wore) and a matching jacket from her hiding place in the dressing area. "This," she brandished with a flourish.

Zoe grimaced doubtfully. "Oh, I don't know, AB. Pale pink? That's more your color than mine."

AB thrust the hanger toward Zoe. "Just try it on, will you? And pink may be my color, but I don't have the legs to wear shorts like you do," she complimented. "Look, there's a cute little tank top teamed with the suit and you've got those pink Louboutin heels you unpacked this morning. They'll go with this perfectly," she cajoled.

"Those shoes were a mistake, AnnaBeth, and I already told you I was sending them back. The online store was supposed to send me the black and red ones."

"Why send them back, when they're the perfect shade to wear with this shorts suit?" She pouted and waved the hanger at Zoe. "Please, Zoe."

She rolled her eyes and snatched the hanger from her devious friend. "Oh, alright! But if it looks terrible, I'm not buying it." Zoe whipped the curtain shut and took off the butterfly dress, replacing it with the tank, pink shorts and jacket. The shorts needed a narrow belt, but all in all, Zoe had to admit, it didn't look half bad. The length of the shorts hit her leg at just below mid-thigh, rather than high on the thigh like most of her other shorts did, and the fabric hugged her hips nicely from the rear.

"Are you ready to model it?" AnnaBeth asked impatiently.

"Yes," Zoe said in resignation. She knew once AB got a look at her, she'd be going home with the pink shorts suit. She was right. AnnaBeth waxed lyrical about how pretty and fresh she looked and about how the BlueBell wives would be less worried about their husbands coming to see her, since she wouldn't be about to expose herself every time she bent over. Zoe's mouth dropped open in shock. _What?!_ She realized she'd said it aloud when AB answered her.

"Zoe! Why do you think the McKenzie brothers and the high school football team are always so eager to visit you with any medical issue, no matter how lame?" AnnaBeth chided. "Every time you bend over, they're hoping to glimpse your panties."

Zoe gasped in horror. "Why didn't you tell me?!"

AnnaBeth shrugged apologetically. "Well, I thought you knew, and we weren't exactly friends when you first came to BlueBell."

"What about later?!" Zoe stomped her foot, almost crying. She'd had no idea. None.

AB took Zoe's hands in her own. "I'm sorry, Zoe, but you've never been all that receptive to advice about your clothes, and I didn't want to cause friction between us by criticizing." AB squeezed Zoe's hands, imploring her to understand. "You always seemed so proud of your fashion forwardness – walkin' around with such confidence and poise." AB sniffled. "You wear your city clothes with a self-assurance I wish I had, but I'm too scared to try."

Zoe shook her head as she realized that AB's outward confidence was 50% bravado. "AnnaBeth, you have a lovely figure and you're beautiful – inside and out. If you _want_ to try something different, don't let fear of the unknown hold you back – and _stop_ making all of your decisions based on what Lemon Breeland thinks or says!" Zoe added acerbically.

AB sniffled and wiped her eyes with a delicate handkerchief she pulled from her purse. "Thank you for understanding, Zoe."

"It's okay, but next time, please, I'm begging you, say something to me. The only man I want copping a look at my panties is a certain BlueBell bar owner." AnnaBeth grinned and held out the next outfit. It was a dark green, Grecian style chiffon dress – very chic – and it would easily transition from day to night. The clincher for Zoe was the green suede heels AB offered, which complemented the dress perfectly.

Zoe and AnnaBeth went to the counter to pay for her selections. As they passed by a rack of new season stock, Zoe saw AB glance at an ensemble on a dress mannequin with envious eyes. Placing her purchases on the counter, she asked the saleswoman to wrap them up and excused herself. Walking to the rack of clothes, Zoe selected two dresses in AnnaBeth's size and directed her friend forcefully to the changing room, dragging her along by the arm.

"What are you doing, Zoe, I can't wear those dresses." She bent low to Zoe's ear, "That one shows too much skin, and that one leaves nothing to the imagination!" she hissed.

Zoe rolled her eyes. "_They do not_," Zoe refuted vehemently. "Good grief, AB, these dresses don't show any more of you than some of the sundresses I've seen you and the other Belles wear – they're just made in a different style and fabric, is all. You may _think_ they're too risqué, but they're not. Now, try them on. I assure you, these dresses are perfectly demure in all of the right places. Try the red one on first while I go and pay for my purchases. Call me when you're ready to show it to me." Zoe whipped the curtain shut on her friend and hurried back to the counter, pulling her wallet from her bag.

"That'll be $1,246.25, Dr Hart," said Alice Prescott, the owner of the _Alice's Closet_. "You've made some lovely selections, and with your figure and flair with accessories, you'll be a walkin' advertisement for my store."

Zoe was flattered. "Thanks, Ms Prescott. You have some beautiful things for sale. I'm … ah … sorry I've never been in here before, but –"

"You were afraid everything I stocked was bought with Lemon Breeland in mind," she finished, uncannily reading Zoe's mind.

Zoe shrugged apologetically. "Well, yes. I browsed your window display a few times, but everything in it was always so … so … "

"Prissy," Alice suggested slyly. Zoe remained tactfully silent, but Alice knew she was right. It was Dr Hart's flair for fashion that had given her the nerve to upscale her range when she submitted her fall orders months ago.

AnnaBeth came out of the dressing room in a fire engine red, halter neck cocktail dress in silk chiffon. The dress molded to her shape showing off her hourglass figure to perfection, and the bust line cupped her breasts plumping them up to a new fullness. The skirt flared out from the fitted waist to dance around her legs when she moved. She looked like a goddess and Lavon was going to be panting with his tongue on the floor when he saw her in it. Zoe grinned so wide, she felt her cheeks cramp.

"Oh, my," breathed Alice.

"She'll take it," Zoe said, before AB could utter a word of protest. "Go try on the black one. I'll be there in a minute to zip you up." Zoe handed over her credit card to Alice Prescott. "You know, Ms Prescott, you should hold a fashion show," Zoe suggested. "Showcase your new fall line in its best light. I have a couple of friends who are models in New York. I bet if you offered them a free outfit, I could persuade them to come to BlueBell for a long weekend." Zoe wandered off to zip up AnnaBeth's black evening gown. She just knew it would be perfect for the charity ball in New Orleans that Lavon was taking AB to at the end of October.

Alice Prescott reflected on Zoe's suggestion as she ran the doctor's credit card. A fashion show – and with real models; from New York, no less! She could offer champagne and canapés, and a 10% discount off all purchases on the day. The more she thought about it, the more excited she became about the idea. She'd have to order more stock – take more chances, which was a bit scary – but nothing ventured, nothing gained, her mother used to say – even if it was an overused cliché. I wonder if the doctor would help me with the arrangements, Alice pondered? I bet she's been to her fair share of fashion extravaganzas in New York city.

"Are you decent, AB?"

"Ye-yes," she stuttered nervously from behind the curtain.

"Well, can I see?"

"Um, I don't think –"

"Don't think, AnnaBeth. You helped me to evolve; now I'm helping you step outside of your comfort zone. Come out and let me admire you." The curtain drew back slowly and AnnaBeth stood in the aperture, clothed from shoulder to toe in a magnificent black evening gown. If Zoe thought the red dress suited her friends figure, then _this_ dress was exceptional. "Turn around, AnnaBeth," Zoe said softly, afraid her friend would panic. She pulled the zip up and urged her to step out of the dressing room. "Come and look at yourself in the salon mirror," Zoe said, leading her into the shop proper.

Alice Prescott looked up from wrapping the doctor's purchases and gasped. AnnaBeth Nass was a vision in black ruffled lace. With the right heels, her stature would be impressive, and she'd make a perfect foil for the Mayor's own imposing height and build.

"It looks all wrong, doesn't it?" AnnaBeth asked anxiously. She wrung her hands as she looked in the full length mirror, blind to what the others saw.

"No!" both Zoe and Alice yelled. "No," Zoe repeated more calmly. "It does _not_ look all wrong; you are perfect and this dress is perfect for the ball in New Orleans. I insist you buy it. I don't think anyone else could look more beautiful in this dress than you. It has your name on it, AnnaBeth, and the designer would cry if he could see you in his creation."

"Really?" she asked timidly.

"Really," both of the other women said.

"Well, alright, if you're sure?" she said, but with a little more assurance in her voice.

"We're sure," Zoe said. "Go get changed so Alice can wrap it up for you –" The jingling of a bell interrupted and Lemon Breeland walked through the door. Zoe noted the other woman's vicious expression and just knew she was going to live up to her name and shoot AnnaBeth's new found confidence down a rabbit hole.

"Why, AnnaBeth Nass, what on earth are you thinkin' wearin' a dress like that? It just shows everythin' and why you'd want to emphasize your defects, I'll never understand. I've told you before, dear, you need to minimize that fuller figure of yours," she said disingenuously, a false smile on her face.

Zoe was shocked and appalled by Lemon's cruelty. AnnaBeth gasped and burst into tears, running into the dressing room. Zoe turned on Lemon with fire in her eyes as the blonde woman admired her crappy manicure. Didn't anyone ever tell her that oval nails were passé. Squared off nails were all the rage.

"You are nothing but a _bitch_, Lemon Breeland, and this is a new low even for you," Zoe spat, her words wiping the fake expression off Lemon's face. "AnnaBeth is your best friend and you just tore her to pieces without a single thought for her feelings – just because you're jealous you can't wear a dress like that!" Zoe pointed in the direction of the dressing area. "You can say what you want about me, Lemon Breeland, but I have _never_ been as nasty, cruel or as selfish as you just were, and I don't think _anyone_ in BlueBell could ever surpass you. Get out of here, Lemon. I can't stand the sight of you." Zoe disappeared into the dressing area to console her friend.

Alice Prescott walked resolutely over to her best customer, but she had a feeling she wouldn't be seeing Lemon Breeland in her store for a long time after today. "Ms Breeland, I regret to say that you are not welcome in my store any longer." Lemon gasped. "I might have expressed Dr Hart's speech in gentler language if I'd had the chance to, but I agree with her sentiments exactly."

"_Well, I never!"_ Lemon huffed shrilly, outraged.

"Yes – that's the problem," agreed Alice Prescott. "You've been left alone to say and do whatever you like, and no one ever had the fortitude to stand up to you. Well, I for one am sick of it. Please leave." Alice marched to the door and opened it, staring pointedly at Lemon Breeland. The blonde arranged her face into a stoic expression and strode from the store, her head held high, but with her reign of terror depleted by a New York upstart and a shop owner who'd worked hard to overcome her dirt poor childhood. Alice let the door close behind Lemon with a definitive rattle.

Her two customers came rushing out of the dressing area and Ms Nass hurriedly left the store, dabbing at teary eyes as she departed. Dr Hart detoured to the counter to collect her carry bags and her credit card. "Ms Prescott, I'm sorry about making a scene, but I just couldn't let Lemon Breeland get away with what she said."

Alice held her hand up dismissively. "No need, Dr Hart. I agree with you wholeheartedly and I asked Ms Breeland to leave. It's a shame really – Ms Nass looked beautiful in both of those dresses."

Zoe contemplated Alice's words, an idea occurring to her. "Yes, she did … Ms Prescott, I'd like you to add those two dresses to my credit card. I'll pick them up later."

"Of course, Dr Hart," Alice said, smiling kindly. The good doctor wasn't quite as bad as everyone said she was.

…

Zoe walked into the Rammer Jammer at 1.30 for lunch after bringing a depressed AnnaBeth back to the plantation. They were supposed to lunch together before Zoe's appointment with Brick at 3 o'clock, but AB just wasn't up to making nice in public after Lemon's crushing diatribe. Zoe marched up to the bar in her lavender jeans, turning heads of admiration from the many male residents relaxing over beer and burgers.

"Lavon!"

"Where's the fire?" he joked.

"At home."

"What?!" he boomed, leaping up from his bar stool. Wade looked on casually. If there'd been an actual fire at the plantation, Zoe wouldn't be all huffy – she'd be scared and worried.

Zoe rolled her eyes. "Not literally, Lavon, but Lemon has been spreading her special brand of benevolence in AnnaBeth's direction, and I can't fix her."

"What happened?" he asked urgently, fishing his car keys from his pocket and throwing a $10 bill on the counter.

"AnnaBeth and I were shopping at _Alice's Closet_ when Lemon came in while AB was trying on a really beautiful gown," she confessed excitedly, "and I'd almost convinced her it was perfect for the New Orleans ball, when Lemon said some really cruel things. She ran out of the store in tears and made me bring her home," she finished angrily. "She needs you, Lavon. You have to let her know that she's everything you want in a woman, 'cause Lemon really did a number on her."

"Thanks, Z," he fumed, already leaving. "Wade, you can tell me the rest of it later, but you have my support in any way you need it." He rushed furiously out of the Rammer Jammer. God help Lemon Breeland if he ran into her today.

"What was all that 'support' stuff about?" Zoe asked Wade.

He shrugged and walked around the bar to kiss Zoe hello. His mouth moved softly, but firmly against hers, making her toes curl. "Nothing, doc, just some local business owners … business," he said lamely.

"Okay, well, I'm a local business owner, so is there anything I need to know?" she pressed.

He brushed a strand of hair from her face, tucking it back behind her ear. He tugged gently on her braid to bring her closer so he could kiss her again. "Not really, doc, not unless you're in the alcohol business," he told her evasively. It wasn't a total lie – just a stretch of the truth. Zoe consented to being kissed even though she didn't quite believe Wade's explanation, but his kisses were too good to pass up.

Wade released her reluctantly and escorted her to a clean table, admiring her figure in the lavender jeans and white sweater. Her shoes were a towering mishmash of colors that lifted her height to just under his chin.

"What do you want for lunch?" Wade asked, after seating her.

Zoe glanced at the menu, knowing very well there was nothing on it she was allowed to eat. "Um –"

Wade called across the restaurant. "Yo, Wanda, can you bring the specials menu here?" She came over and handed a typed page on a small clipboard to Zoe, then hurried away to buss her tables. "Our specials today, ma'am," Wade recited, making Zoe giggle, "are the goats cheese and baby beet salad with roasted sweet potato and toasted pine nuts on a bed of arugula, served with toasted, seven grain harvest bread fresh from the local bakery. Our second option is the oven roasted, sweet potato catfish cakes served with a garden salad, and our last option is a lean New York strip steak served with oven baked sweet potato fries and a spinach salad with orange segments." He grinned at her proudly and Zoe couldn't help but laugh delightedly.

"There appears to be a theme in all of those specials – why is that?" she teased.

He blushed. "I read on the internet that sweet potato is a better option for diabetics than white potato."

Zoe leaned up and kissed him. "That is so sweet, Wade, and luckily for you, I _like_ sweet potato ... _and_ goats cheese, so I'll have the first option," she said, handing him the menu. "Where did you find goats cheese in BlueBell? I didn't think the _Dixie Stop_ was that up market."

He stood to place her lunch order with the kitchen. "It's not. Dash DeWitt opened up a new business over the summer. It's called _Gourmet Goods_."

"How did I not see that in town today?" Zoe asked. "Where is it? I want to go there immediately. I bet he has Pinot." She stood as though to leave. "So much happened in just three months – I can't believe I missed it all."

Wade pushed her down. "Later, doc. Eat first, and I'll consider takin' you there after your appointment with Dr Breeland." Wade brought her a sparkling water on his way back from the kitchen, and sat beside her.

He played with the sleeve of her sweater. "So, doc, I was thinking about our first date?" She smiled encouragingly. "Since we're now occupied on Saturday afternoon –"

She grimaced. "Oh, yeah, I meant to tell you about that –"

He cocked a brow at her, feigning annoyance. "Since we're now occupied on Saturday afternoon chaperoning a children's party, that only leaves Sunday, 'cause I have to work on Saturday night. So, I wondered whether you'd like to accompany me on a picnic. I thought we could go … orange picking," he offered shyly.

Zoe squealed inwardly. "Really?" she asked, smiling widely.

He nodded. "Yes, but not in Fairhope. I have another place in mind close by that's secluded and has a whole orchard of trees you can choose from. There's not just orange's, either – there are peaches and cherries, too," he raved, on a roll.

"It sounds wonderful," Zoe agreed, kissing him again to calm him down. "I'm looking forward to it." Wanda came over to the table with Zoe's lunch arranged enticingly in a shallow white bowl. She placed it before her with a tiny pitcher of dressing on the side."

"Enjoy your lunch, Dr Hart, Irma had a lot of fun makin' it. She said it's nice to stretch herself and make somethin' other than burgers and chilli."

"Thanks, Wanda. Tell her I appreciate it." Zoe drizzled dressing over her salad and forked a portion loaded with ingredients. A taste sensation exploded in her mouth and she moaned. "So, good," she mumbled, barely swallowing before diving into the salad.

Wade grinned and then remembered his gift for Zoe. "I'll be back in a minute," he said. "Don't go anywhere." He ran to his office for the rolled up newspaper and found Lemon in the office, sitting at the desk and staring into the distance.

"When did you sneak in here?" Wade asked, closing the door behind him.

She shrugged glibly. "A while ago. I came in the back way."

Wade leaned against the side of the desk and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not surprised. From what I hear, you've been in fine form today." She shot him a filthy look, which he ignored. "If I were you, I'd stay away from Lavon – he's out for your blood after your little … incident at _Alice's Closet_ earlier."

Lemon stood up in a huff. "Thank you for your advice, Wade Kinsella, but when I want it, I'll ask for it. In the meantime, I'll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself."

He shook his head – damned stubborn woman. "What the hell is _wrong_ with you, Lemon? Between you and George Tucker, I've got my hands full and I haven't got time for this shit right now – Zoe's back and she's my priority –"

"What about George?" Lemon gasped, forgetting about herself for five seconds.

Wade left his perch against the desk and grabbed the newspaper. "Look, Lemon, I know you've been preoccupied more an' usual, but surely you've noticed George's drinkin'? It's become a real problem. I spoke to your daddy 'bout getting him some help, but there ain't much he can do legally. Perhaps you could talk to George; get him to go to AA or somethin'?"

Lemon waved one arm airily. "Oh, Wade, he isn't that bad. He's only indulgin' a little more than usual. He's just more like his daddy than he used to be. Harold Tucker always did like his liquor –"

Wade stared at her incredulously. "Are you _blind_, Lemon?!"

"Stop overreacting, Wade Kinsella!"

"He's a _drunk_, Lemon! And, he's potentially a dangerous drunk. He's been makin' threats against Zoe Hart. He blames her for everything wrong in his life."

"Well, she did break up two of his relationships, didn't she?" Lemon reminded him acidly.

"It's not as simple as that and you know it. Are you going to help, or not?"

She shrugged. "Not."

He glared at her, disgusted with her attitude. "Fine," he gritted. "Don't go out through the restaurant, Zoe's in there havin' lunch. I'll see you tomorrow." Wade strode out of the office, slamming the door behind him. He paused by the coolroom fridge to regain his composure before returning to the table. He'd have to tell Zoe about George – but he'd do it later.

"I'm back," he announced cheerfully, and sat beside her. Zoe had finished her salad – he must have been gone longer than he thought.

"That was delicious," she said, wiping her mouth on a napkin.

"Good. I got you something. It'll be here every Monday morning, baring a natural disaster or an airline strike." He handed her the gift tied up with red ribbon.

"A newspaper?"

"Yep. Check the title." He watched with bated breath. He was pretty sure she was gonna love it.

She gasped. "The Sunday edition of the _New York Times_! This is like the best gift, ever!" she said, throwing her arms around Wade's neck and kissing him. "I love it," she said, grinning. She slipped the ribbon off and unrolled the paper, thumbing directly to the crossword puzzle. He handed her a pen from his pocket and wandered back behind the bar, watching her enjoy herself, until it was time to leave for her doctor's appointment.

…

Wade parked in front of the clinic and leaned over the center console of his Camaro to kiss Zoe. "I'll be back in thirty minutes to pick you up," he told her. "I'm just gonna take my car home and then I'll get yours from the Rammer Jammer and we can go do whatever you want."

"I want to go to Dash's new store," she reminded him.

"I haven't forgotten," Wade assured her. He watched as she climbed out and went inside, and then he drove off. He didn't notice George Tucker lurking in the bushes watching him kiss Zoe. If he had, the malevolent expression on his face would have scared the crap out of him.

…

A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review and let me know what you think.

Zoe and AnnaBeth's shopping photos for the chapter are on my blog at jkazziefanfiction dot wordpress dot com.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter references, fictional places and characters are the sole property of J K Rowling and Warner Bros Studios. No infringement is intended.

In case the reference slipped by some readers, the _BlueBell Petacular Pageant_ which Shula Whitaker told Zoe about is a pet show and petacular is a play on the word s**pe**c**tacular**.

I based the BlueBell population on Point Clear, Alabama, which according to my Wikipedia research is the approximate location of the fictional BlueBell. Population of Point Clear in 2010: 2,125; number of households: 741. Point Clear (aka BlueBell) is part of the Daphne–Fairhope–Foley area of Baldwin County, Alabama.

Betty-Lou Skinnard (the waitress at the Butter Stick) is an original character. I couldn't find any reference to Agnes' surname, so I made something up. I made up the name of the liquor store proprietor (Andy) since I couldn't find a HoD reference. Dash DeWitt's store, _Gourmet Goods_ is my own creation. I couldn't find the name of the cook at the Rammer Jammer, so I called her Irma.

Mid to high 80s temp (Fahrenheit) for Alabama in late September and early October (Autumn/Fall), is about 28 to 32 degrees Celsius, and the humidity averages about 70% – so, hot and sticky.


	6. Chapter 6 - First Date

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The CW is the author and owner of Hart of Dixie. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

…

AN: Thanks for the reviews to chapter 5 - I haven't responded to all of them yet, but I'm getting around to it as I get a free moment.

**SPOILER FOR SEASON 3 if you haven't seen it:**

So I watched episode 1 of season three. I'm not sure I see the point of Joel other than he seems to be an easy way out for Zoe. I was shocked that Zoe: a) indulged in a dalliance with Jonah Breeland, whom she professed to dislike at every opportunity and had no chemistry with; and b) she then takes up with another man (Joel) professing to love him and, hey presto, she has the perfect excuse to remain in NY, and consequently, she nicely avoids making any decisions at all about Wade or, God forbid, George. George belongs with Tansy and I hope she wakes up to herself and comes crawling back to George sooner rather than later. I didn't think much of the Lynly character, and I'm still trying to figure out why she's even in the show. I missed Shelby and Magnolia – they were both great fun, and as soon as Lemon said she felt ashamed of whom her secret lover was, I immediately said 'Meatball!"

PS. Seems the HoD writers and I had the same idea about the awful breakfast muffins (chapter 5). Wade asking what it was supposed to be, then tossing it in the bin was purely coincidental.

PSS. To maintain some type of continuity with season 3, I will add in some of the episode plots from time to time, and the first one's in this chapter.

…

Chapter 6 – First Date

Wade hooked his hammer into his tool belt and decided to call it a day. It was Friday afternoon and Zoe would be home from the practice shortly. He didn't want to get caught inside her carriage house and spoil the surprise – though she had dropped a hefty clue the other day. He took one last look at the progress he'd made converting the back room at the foot of the stairs into a walk-in closet, which joined the bathroom; and a functional kitchenette with an attached laundry. Lavon said he'd pay for the building supplies and the fittings, as long as Wade did the manual labor. He figured another two weeks and he'd be finished.

After pushing the building supplies back into the room, he checked that the unused door adjoining the bathroom was still firmly locked and pulled the door to the new kitchen closed behind him. It wouldn't be a surprise, if for some reason; the doc got suspicious and decided to get nosy.

Wade was sitting on his porch freshly showered and drinking a beer thirty minutes later when Zoe's car roared around the pond and screeched to an angry stop behind his Camaro. "What now?" he mumbled, as he slowly stood and walked down the steps to meet her. He mentally sifted through all of the things he might have done that week to piss her off, but he couldn't recall anything. She slammed out of her car and hurried around the hood stopping when she was toe-to-toe with him.

"Hey there, doc. You seem … a mite irritated this evenin'." Her eyes narrowed dangerously and he swallowed nervously – he couldn't help it. "Did somethin' happen?"

Without warning, she stomped on his foot.

"Ow! Jesus Christ Almighty, Zoe, what was that for?! I ain't done nothin', I swear it." Wade winced and favored his stinging toes. Thank god he was wearing boots.

"Nothing?! You think you've done _nothing_? Well, that's not what Brick Breeland and Sheriff Pickett said when they both pulled me aside this afternoon and _told me_ to stay away from George Tucker!"

_Shit! _"Oh," he swallowed, "um, what did they say … exactly?"

"They _said_ that you _said_ that George made some kind of threat against me – something about running me over – and you wanted me to stay away from him and they agreed. That's insane – George would _never_ hurt me –"

He exhaled and scratched the back of his neck. He knew he'd left it too long to say something. He was such a _chickenshit_ sometimes when it came to Zoe – he hated to disappoint her. He sighed and took her hand to lead her up the steps, but she shook him off, and he rolled his eyes at her bratty behavior.

"I thought we'd settled this, Wade. I told you I came back to be with you and I meant it. You have absolutely _nothing_ to worry about when it comes to me and George. He's my friend –"

"No, he's not!" Wade yelled. Zoe made a face of disbelief. "Not anymore. He's not the same person you knew before, doc."

"What?" she scoffed. "What are you talking about?"

Wade held the back of his head with both hands and blew out his cheeks wondering what to say. He decided that honesty was the best policy. "Zoe, he's a drunk. In fact, he makes Earl seem like a teetotaler, and he's got a mean streak in him to boot."

She crossed her arms over her chest, her expression mulish. "I don't believe you."

Wade rubbed his head tiredly and stared at the ground. "Come and sit with me, doc, I need to tell you some things." He gestured for her to take a seat at his crummy deck furniture. He'd been meaning to build some new ones, but he hadn't gotten around to. He pulled two bottles from his beer cooler and handed her a bottle of water. Wade sat beside her, slouching forward, and dangling his own beer bottle between his legs.

"Do you remember last Saturday night at the Rammer Jammer?"

Zoe inclined her head. "When you declined my dinner invitation and told me in front of half the town that you didn't want to see me," she derided.

He coughed. "Actually, I said I needed time (her eyes narrowed) but that's beside the point," he added hurriedly. "Did you see George Tucker sitting in the corner?"

Zoe reflected for a moment and then shook her head. "No."

"Well he was there. He'd been there most of the afternoon and he was still there at closing time when I went back to drive him home. He was completely wasted, doc, and it's not a new occurrence. He's been like that since he came back from touring with Lily Ann, and when I spoke to her a few weeks ago she confirmed that George was drinkin' heavily the whole time they were away."

"No –"

"I'm afraid so, doc. He took Tansy leavin' him, and then catchin' us together pretty hard –"

"And you're saying he turned to alcohol as a balm for his wounds?" she scoffed.

Wade nodded, taking a long pull from his beer. "It's what some people do, doc. I know I used to, and Earl's still doin' it – twenty years after my mother died. Some people jus' don't cope well with loss, heartbreak and disappointment in their lives. Some people eat to soothe their souls; some take drugs and others drink alcohol. In a perfect world, we'd all turn to exercise and get real healthy while we get over our misfortunes, but that's not the way it usually works."

Zoe looked gutted as Wade's words took root. She reared to her feet to pace around his deck. "This is all my fault!" she shrieked. "I interfered in his relationship with Tansy and she broke it off with him, because she couldn't stand to be around me and she wanted George away from me." Tears tracked down her cheeks as she counted the toll of her selfishness. "I-I have to fix this, Wade. I have to talk to George … and Tansy. Do you have her number? I want to call her."

Wade reached out and pulled Zoe onto his lap, cuddling her in the circle of his arms. "Zoe, none of this is entirely your fault," he said gently, "and George's drinkin' is decidedly _not_ your fault – that's all on him." She sniffled and pulled her legs up to snuggle closer to him. Wade slipped her shoes off so she wouldn't maim him, and he placed the heels on the table beside them.

"But it is _my_ fault, Wade. I was so screwed up and unhappy after we broke up. I told George I still had feelings for him, and I didn't – I was just confused. Tansy breaking up with George is all on me, and he wouldn't let me explain after you and I spent the night together –"

Wade stiffened. "Hey, George Tucker should _not_ be comin' into your house without an invitation," he pointed out, while rubbing her back in circular motions – he made a mental note to change the locks on the carriage house. "He always just assumed that when he turned you down and then changed his mind that you'd be hangin' around on the sidelines waitin' for him. He's only got himself to blame if he saw stuff he didn't want to." She sniffled and nodded. "Um, Zoe, there's more –"

She lifted her head and wiped her tears, sighing heavily. "Tell me."

"Ahm, George really did threaten you."

She blinked. "No, he did not. He wouldn't –"

"He _did_, Zoe," Wade interrupted. "When I took him home that night, he said he wished you'd never come to BlueBell, and if he knew then that you'd ruin his life … well, he told me he would have run you over instead of drivin' you into town."

Her eyes widened and she shook her head in denial. "No. No, that's not true. George would never –" Zoe's dismay choked her and she couldn't continue as tears trailed over her cheekbones. Wade leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

"Doc, that's not the worst of it. I don't want to have to tell you this, but you need to know how important it is for you to stay away from George Tucker right now. Zoe … he said he'd still do it if he got the chance, and he said he knew how to get it away with it."

She shuddered and tightened her hold on Wade. He held her for what seemed like hours as she ruminated, and then sobbed away her fear, guilt and denial. He knew that Zoe's tears were those of acceptance, since she'd never been a crier; except for that one time when she found out he cheated on her. He vowed never to be the direct cause of her tears again. He couldn't promise not to upset or anger her, 'cause life threw all sorts of curveballs, but he'd never again give her a reason to distrust him or cause her emotional pain with his actions.

"I still have to try to help him, Wade," Zoe whispered a long while later. His eyes closed in resignation – she was one stubborn woman. That's one of things he loved about her – but it also drove him crazy.

"I'll make you a deal, doc," he said at last. "I'll agree to you talkin' to George, as long as he's sober when you do it, and I'm there, 'cause I don't trust him."

She lifted her head from his chest and stared at him. "What do you mean, _you'll agree_ to me talking to George? Since when do you tell me how to treat my patients?" she said angrily. There she was – his strong and stubborn Yankee doctor. But he could be stubborn, too.

"Take it or leave it, doc – and for the record, George Tucker was never really your patient. He only ever saw Brick unless it was an emergency." She scrambled off his lap to stand in front of him, her fists planted against her hips.

"That is … you … you are … you have … you are such an ass, Wade Kinsella!"

He stood up and towered over her. "That may be, but I'm _your_ ass, Zoe Hart and you're _my_ doc and I'm _not_ goin' to let you walk into danger if I can prevent it. George is unstable, doc, and Lavon, Brick and Sheriff Pickett all agree with me. We've all observed him _and_ spoken with him, but you haven't. He's declined all assistance and refuses to accept he has a problem. No one will serve him alcohol in BlueBell anymore, and he's been seen around town lookin' like a homeless person.

"You _need_ to stay away from him, doc, 'cause his feelin's for you ain't all lovey and flowery no more; they're the total opposite. I'm askin' you to be sensible, Zoe," Wade's voice hitched, "'cause, I'm one of those people I was talkin' about b'fore who wouldn't survive the loss if somethin' happened to you … I'm beggin' you, doc, please, please don't approach George Tucker on your own."

Zoe blinked rapidly and she whispered, "You're being completely serious, aren't you?"

"As a heart attack, Zoe Hart."

"Okay," she agreed in a small voice, surprising the hell out of Wade Kinsella. He gathered her close and she came willingly, wrapping her arms around his waist. "But, I'd still like to talk to Tansy. Will you give me her number?"

He grimaced and picked her up to sit down, settling her onto his lap. "Doc, I don't think she really wants to talk to you. She wasn't too happy with you the last time I talked to her."

"But, you know where she is?" Zoe persisted.

"Yeah, she's livin' in Foley. She got a job there in a beauty salon and she's doin' real well for herself."

"Do you think Tansy might be able to get through to George?" she pondered.

Wade sat forward on his deck chair, almost dumping Zoe off his lap in the process. "No! No way. I may not be married to Tansy no more, but that doesn't mean I don't care about her, and I don't want her anywhere near George Tucker, right now."

"But –"

"No, Zoe! Her life is finally on the right track. She's got a good job and a little house near the beach for Dolly Parton to run on, and she's been seein' a nice man who's a teacher. You're not gonna ruin this for her –" Wade trailed off when he realized what he'd said.

Zoe stiffened in his lap, an expression of hurt on her face. "So you _do think_ their break up was my fault?" Wade rolled his eyes, more at himself, than at Zoe. He tightened his hold on her so she couldn't escape the conversation that was long overdue.

"I didn't say that, doc, but you have to admit that things _might_ have turned out different for George and Tansy if you'd stayed away from him. You have a habit of repeatin' unhealthy behavior patterns, doc. You choose men who are emotionally unavailable, 'cause you know it's unlikely to ever go anywhere – just like your relationship with your dad."

Zoe's lips parted in astonishment, as she listened to Wade; really listened.

"It's why you chose to be casual with me. I was the player who was incapable of offerin' you more than A+ sex and fun times. When you took a chance on me, I ruined it, and that's when you returned to your safety net behavior. You dallied with Jonah Breeland, 'cause he was a player like me, but he made no secret that he only wanted casual sex to fill in time while he was in BlueBell, and then he'd be movin' on.

"You told me your boyfriend of six years was never a real relationship. It was somethin' convenient you fell into and you weren't that broken up about it when he dumped you. You were more pissed about the fellowship you missed out on. You _knew_ how George felt about Lemon. You _knew_ how he felt about Tansy and you _knew_ he would turn you down both times, 'cause he's a one-woman man.

"When it all played out like you expected, you went back to blamin' your misery on me and your screwed up relationship with your dad. You're just like the rest of us who escape from our shitty lives by latchin' onto a crutch, 'cept yours is this fantasy you have in your head of the perfect man who doesn't exist and never will."

Zoe blinked and then smiled ironically. Wade knew her so well. It only took him months to figure out what had taken her fifteen years to conclude. She was awed by Wade's insight into her psyche. It was a side of him she'd never really accepted before. "Have you thought about a job as a shrink, because you're really good at this." she said at last.

Wade chuckled and shook his head. He stood and placed Zoe on her feet, cupping her face to kiss her, and to his great surprise, she didn't push him away. He was amazed she hadn't annihilated him. Three months ago she would've kicked him in the junk with the pointy end of her shoe. She was really growing as a person, just like him.

"Nah, doc, I only have the patience to psycho-analyze you; pun intended." She responded with a small smile. "Doc, I'm sorry for dumpin' this all on you and then leavin', but I gotta go to work. I'm already late, but I promise I'll ring Tansy and _ask her_ if she's willin' to talk to you. That's all I'm prepared to do."

"Okay, thanks, and about what you said; I needed to hear it, but you'll be pleased to know that I arrived at some of the same conclusions over the summer. You're a good man, Wade Kinsella."

He blushed. "Are you comin' to the Rammer Jammer for dinner?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm having dinner with AnnaBeth and Lavon, and I've got their costumes for tomorrows Harry Potter© party. I picked them all up from Shula Whitaker's before I came home."

"Okay, well, I'll see you later. Remember what I said about stayin' away from George." He kissed her forehead and then leapt off the steps and climbed into his car, driving away into the night. Zoe slipped her shoes back on and took Wade's Dumbledore costume from the rear seat of her car. Letting herself into the gatehouse, she hung the burnished burgundy robes and wizard hat on a peg on the wall, leaving the plastic bag containing his wig, beard and glasses on the chair below it.

…

An hour later, Zoe drove up to the main house, freshly showered and wearing her new butterfly dress ensemble. She blew the horn as she parked in front of the back door, bringing Lavon outside to help her with the costumes. Like the well brought up southern gentleman he was, he helped her from the car and kissed her forehead in greeting.

"Evening, Z. You're lookin' real fine tonight. How was your first week back at work?"

She opened the rear door of her car. "Thanks, Lavon … work was good. Brick won't let me be on-call yet 'til he's sure I've got everything with my health under control, but it was busy. How's AnnaBeth? I haven't seen her since Tuesday."

"She's better, Zoe. I took a few days off and we drove up to _Mentone Springs_, north of Birmingham to get away. We stayed in a private cottage a friend of mine owns, and we just relaxed and talked and took in the gorgeous scenery around the town."

Zoe reached into the car and pulled out two heavy costumes bagged in clear plastic garment bags. "Hold out your arms," she directed Lavon, laying them across his long limbs. "You convinced her that Lemon was just jealous and talking crap?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I think so – eventually. It took some doing, I'll tell you that. AnnaBeth has always placed so much value on Lemon Breeland's opinion that it's hard for her to expel the poison once it's taken root. But, I gotta tell you, Z; if I see Lemon Breeland in the next year, it'll be too soon for me," he declared firmly.

Zoe pulled another garment bag from the rear seat – this one grey and embossed in cursive script with '_Alice's Closet_' across the front. Closing the door, she reached through the open window and grabbed her purse from the front passenger seat, then walked with Lavon to the door of the house.

"What's in the other dress bag?" Lavon asked curiously.

Zoe grinned. "A surprise for AnnaBeth…I hope," she added worriedly. "These are the two dresses she tried on that day. I had Alice put them on my credit card. There's the bill," she added cheekily with a wink, pointing to the sales slip stapled to the neck of the garment bag.

Lavon grinned, until he peeked at the total written in big red numbers. He gulped and paled under his dark skin, if that was at all possible. "I'll … um … cut you a check," he squeaked.

"No hurry, Lavon."

"Thanks for havin' the foresight to buy them. From what you told me, AB is gonna look magnificent when she wears them in New Orleans."

Zoe chuckled. "You have _no idea_, Lavon," she drawled. "You'd better brace yourself when the time comes, but no sneaking a look in the meantime. I ordered the shoes from Louboutin online and they'll be here next week, but they're _my_ gift to AnnaBeth."

Lavon objected. "Oh, but that's too much, Zoe. I don't know much about women's clothing, but I do know that _Louboutin_ is expensive. I heard all about it from Wade when you made him pay for a new pair after he coached that raccoon to eat your white sandals."

Zoe scowled. She'd really liked those sandals, and Louboutin had sold out when she went to order a replacement pair. "Don't worry about it, Lavon. They're having a sale. I bought two new pair for myself, as well. Just call me Imelda, but I love shoes," she joked. Lavon didn't think it a laughing matter. He'd seen her shoe collection.

"But –"

"I don't want to hear another word about it, Lavon. Now, what's for dinner? _I'm starving_," she exaggerated, as Lavon held the door open and ushered her inside the fragrant kitchen.

…

Wade drove around the pond to Zoe's carriage house at 11.30 on Saturday morning dressed in his Dumbledore costume. Zoe had left him a picture of what he should look like when he was dressed and he had to admit that he looked like the real deal; what with the wig, beard, nose and spectacles he wore to complete the transformation. He even carried a plastic wand and wore a dime store 'ruby' ring on his finger. The only thing he didn't like was how heavy the robes were and how hot he'd been when he'd first gotten dressed. After he'd sweated buckets for fifteen minutes, he'd removed the robe and stripped down to his shorts, wife beater and boots. Just like with a judge, no one would know what he _wasn't_ wearing beneath the dark fabric.

Zoe came out onto the front porch as he climbed from his car. "Woo hoo, Wade," she sang. "Look at you all dressed up." She came down the front steps, stopping in front of him to adjust his wizard cap. "You look great. Thank you for doing this."

He leaned down to kiss her good morning. He hadn't seen her since yesterday evening when they talked and he didn't get home until three this morning. "It's okay, doc, I know how important it is to you that the town sees you as a permanent fixture. You look great, too, by the way."

She grinned and swished the skirts of her black robes. "I think so, too. I've been practicing the McGonagall look in the mirror all morning. I think I've got it down pat. What do you think?" She pinched her mouth into the classic McGonagall expression of disapproval and crossed her arms.

"Perfect! I love your witch's hat."

She reached up to twitch the stiff, black, felt fabric. "Yeah? I made it myself. Shula Whitaker cut it out for me, but I sewed it together; 'cause, I am a surgeon, you know, and I'm pretty good at hand stitching," she crowed.

"Oh, I know," he confirmed, rubbing absently at the area on his midriff where the scar lay from his argument with a fence at the Rammer Jammer two years earlier. Zoe's stitching had been so neat; he could hardly see it anymore. "You ready to go?"

"Yep. Just let me get my wand and my purse. I'll be right back."

They drove into town and Wade stopped behind town hall where the OWLS and the volunteers were directed to park. He helped Zoe from the car, cocking a brow when she swung her legs out and rested her feet on the ground. He had to grin. The McGonagall character might be a slightly dowdy and serious, middle aged witch, but Zoe took twenty years off her with her four inch, jet black heels that were very witchy looking in a sexy kind of way.

"Nice shoes, doc."

She grinned happily. "I couldn't help myself. I saw them online and I just _knew_ they were perfect for today. I had them expressed to me."

"Well then, let's get this party going." He grasped her hand in his to lead her onto the street and around to town square, where Dash DeWitt was directing the proceedings with a megaphone. About seventy kids, between the ages of eight and fourteen and all dressed in character, waited impatiently outside of the fenced area around the gazebo, which had been decorated to look like Hogwarts.

"Wow, the OWLS really went all out," Zoe said, slightly awed. "Hey, there's Lavon and AnnaBeth." She giggled and dragged him in their direction. "Oh, he looks great as Hagrid. Look at all of that long, bushy hair and beard, and he's even carrying an umbrella." Wade sniggered. Lavon's costume was bulked up across the shoulders and the belly making him look a lot like the mythical half-giant. From the way he kept wiping his face with the sleeve of his costume, Wade figured he was burning like a furnace under all of the padding.

"AnnaBeth!" Zoe called, as they reached the other couple. She turned around and smiled, hugging Zoe. She was dressed as Professor Sprout – the herbology teacher – in tan robes, a matching witch's hat on top of her curly, gray wig, and she wore a length of ivy around her neck. A plastic pot plant was tied around her waist with a thick length of rope, acting as a belt.

Wade left the two women alone to gossip, wandering away to talk with Lavon who was engaged in conversation with Brick Breeland dressed as Professor Snape. Other than wearing a black suit with a mandarin collar that was rented from a local menswear store, his only disguise was a long, greasy looking black wig and his wand.

"Hey," Wade greeted. "It looks like it'll be quite the party today. A pity it's so damned hot, though."

"Morning, Wade," Lavon moaned miserably. He looked really uncomfortable. "How come you look so cool?"

Wade lifted up the front of his robes, showing them his boots and his bare, hairy calves and bony knees.

Lavon rolled his eyes. "Now, why didn't I think of that?"

"You've still got time, Mayor," suggested Dr Breeland, "and I'd highly recommend it. You don't want to overheat. I'm not wearing anything under my costume, either," he whispered conspiratorially.

"Too much information, Dr Breeland," Lavon stated, his tone uncomfortable.

"C'mon, Lavon. You got the keys to town hall with ya?" He nodded. "Okay, then let's go." They took off for the men's bathroom. "Zoe knows about George," Wade said, as they climbed the short steps to the front door of the red brick building housing Lavon's official office and BlueBell's small court house.

"I know; she told us last night over dinner. She's real upset about it, but I impressed upon her how important it is that she avoid him for the time being."

"Thanks. Brick and Sheriff Bill spoke to her, as well. That's how she found out about him."

"I thought _you_ were 'sposed to tell her?"

"Yeah, I was, but I put it off too long. She was pretty pissed with me."

"Well, that's normal, ain't it? You wouldn't be Wade Kinsella if you weren't pissing off the woman you were dating," Lavon said, pushing open the door to the men's room.

Wade conceded to Lavon's logic. He _was_ a changed man. A more responsible and mature man, but he was still Wade Kinsella at the core, and Zoe's and his relationship would be all wrong if they never argued – they'd tried that before. Their constant banter and bickering was what made them…them.

"I'll wait out here," Wade said. "Call me if you need help … but, don't need help," he added. "I have no desire to see your naked ass."

"Ditto for your hairy, chicken legs," Lavon pouted, "but you didn't give me the choice of declining before you flashed them at me." He disappeared into the bathroom, and Wade propped himself against the wall to wait for him.

…

"Hey there, pretty lady," said a familiar voice near her ear. Zoe spun around in surprise.

"Earl! What are you doing here? I didn't know you were chaperoning today." She leaned forward to hug him and discretely sniffed Earl's clothes and breath. She sighed in relief when there wasn't a single sign of alcohol coming from him.

"I wasn't 'sposed to, but Tom Long said he couldn't do it no more since Wanda and him had to go to Mobile … so I volunteered." He hitched up his baggy pants and grinned widely, sincerely pleased with himself. He was dressed as Argus Filch, the Hogwarts caretaker. His hair was tucked under a wig of long, straggly strands with a receding hairline, and he had what looked like two fake boils stuck to his chin. Beside him on a rigid leash was a stuffed, long-haired tabby cat mounted on wheels. Zoe prayed with every fiber of her being that it hadn't been a real one.

"I'm glad you're back, pretty lady. Wade sure missed ya, and I been needin' to see a doctor for nearly a week now."

"What's wrong, Earl, and why didn't you visit Dr Breeland if it was urgent?" Zoe looked him over with a critical eye. She didn't note anything obvious; other than he seemed more flushed than usual, but it _was _hot today.

His lip curled in disdain. "I ain't seein' that big-headed quack. I've been waitin' for you. You're family."

Zoe blushed. "Well, tell me now, so I can decide whether you need treatment right away, or if it can wait until Monday."

"I don't want to bother you none, doc, this bein' a party for the kids an' all."

"Don't you worry about that, Earl; just tell what the problem is."

"Okay. I got this scratch on m' hand from a rusty nail."

Zoe sighed. This didn't sound good. "Show me."

Earl released the rigid leash of the cat and pulled up his sleeve. A dark red line ran up his forearm from his thumb to his elbow.

"Oh, Earl," Zoe said, pulling her phone from the pocket of her costume. "AnnaBeth?" she said when the other woman answered, explaining briefly that she needed to talk to her. She came hurrying over from where she'd been speaking with Dash DeWitt. The party was due to begin in just five minutes. She only hoped that Dash wouldn't hold this against her.

"What is it, Zoe? Oops, I mean, Professor McGonagall."

"Can you tell Dash I'm sorry, but I have to treat a patient on an urgent matter, and send Wade over to the clinic when he gets back from wherever it is he went with Lavon."

AnnaBeth glanced at Earl, noting the infected injury on his hand. "Can I help with anything?" She'd taken on the part-time role of the clinic's receptionist over the summer, sharing the office hours with Shelby. They each worked half days and took one full day off per week. So far, it had been working out great for everyone.

"No, it's okay. We can't all desert the party. Just send Wade over when you see him. Come on, Earl."

…

Wade rushed into the clinic fifteen minutes later. "Doc!"

"I'm in my treatment room, Wade."

Zoe came to the door. Wade looked past her and saw his dad lying on the exam bed with both arms outstretched and resting on pillows. He had an IV drip in one arm. What was so incongruous about the picture, wasn't Earl receiving treatment, but that he appeared to be dressed in a Harry Potter costume. He decided not to ask about the stuffed cat on the floor beside the bed.

"What's goin' on? AB said you brought my dad here."

She pulled him away to the reception area. "Earl has blood poisoning. He's going to be okay," she added hurriedly when Wade's expression turned worried. "I've given him a shot of antibiotics and he's on an IV cocktail to help speed things along and keep him hydrated."

He pulled off his Dumbledore cap, rubbing his head. He exhaled a combined sigh of worry and relief. "How'd that happen?"

"He said he scratched his hand on a rusty nail. He needs to stay here for a few hours so I can monitor him, and then we can take him home. We should bring him to your house, though, so I can check on him during the night, since he refuses to go to the hospital."

"Yep. That sounds like Earl. Can I see him?"

"Of course. He's awake." Zoe left father and son to talk, and went in to her adjoining office to fill in Earl's patient chart. According to the records, he hadn't been in for a checkup since Wade ran him over with his boat trailer, and before that it had been three years. He was overdue for a complete health check and Zoe determined to get him into the clinic for an evaluation as soon as possible. His blood pressure was a little high, but that could be due to the infection he was fighting.

Zoe listened to the two men banter in their typical way and smiled to herself. Wade demanded to know why Earl was dressed as Argus Filch, and Earl demanded to know when Wade was going to make an honest woman of her. They both bickered back and forth, interspersing their exchanges with a few words of honesty and concern for the other, before they were off bickering again. They loved each other fiercely; they just had their own weird way of showing it. A bit like she and Wade did.

Zoe walked into the treatment room to check on her patient, noting with relief that the line of poison had receded slightly. "Things are looking better, boys. I'll have you fixed up in no time, Earl," she said cheerfully.

"Never doubted it for a minute, pretty doctor. You wouldn't let nothin' happen to your future father-in-law … and grandpappy to your babies," he added slyly, looking from one to the other. Wade and Zoe stared at each other over his father, and then they smiled at his less than subtle hints about their relationship.

Still smiling, Zoe said, "Wade, why don't you go back to the party for awhile, and then come back and relieve me in an hour or so. That way, we can both fulfill our obligation to Dash and keep an eye on Earl."

"That's a good idea, son. No point wastin' a perfectly good costume. You look mighty fine as an old man," Earl cackled. "You gettin' an idea of what your husband's gonna look like in fifty years, pretty doctor?" Wade scowled, his tolerance for his father's sneaky remarks over. Reaching down, he peeled the fake boils from his dad's chin, pulling his whiskers away with it. "Ow! Take it easy there, Wade. I'm sick and I need your compassion," he complained.

"You're gonna be fine, you old goat. Now, shut up and let the medicine work." He gestured for Zoe to move away from Earl's big ears, and they walked to the aperture leading to her office. "You sure 'bout me goin', Zoe?" Wade checked his watch; it was 2 pm and the party would finish at four.

"Yes. Come back here at 3 and I'll do the last hour at the party, and then we can bring Earl to your place." Wade looked back at his Dad lying on the bed. "He's going to be fine, Wade. I caught the infection in time, before the poison could reach his heart. Earl should be well on the road to recovery by tomorrow morning."

"What about our date tomorrow?" Wade asked.

"We can still go, but we might be a little more tired than we'd like."

"Okay," he said. He kissed her with difficulty through his long beard, and said, "I'll be back in an hour."

"We'll be here," she mumbled, pulling strands of wiry, synthetic hair from between her teeth.

…

Wade and Zoe arrived at the plantation with Earl at 4.30, after the party had finished. Dash had been a bit irritated, because three of his chaperones were effectively MIA, but he calmed down some, when he got two of them back for one hour shifts. Children and adults alike had a ball, and the OWLS raised $1500 after expenses; enough to purchase two new computers for the school.

After getting Earl settled in to Wade's bed with another IV drip, Zoe ordered Wade to her place to catch a few hours sleep before he had to go to the Rammer Jammer. He went grudgingly, but came back at eight that night refreshed and ready for work. He came home at midnight, relieving Zoe so she could get some sleep, and he dozed on his couch for the remainder of the night, waking every two hours to check on Earl. Noise from the kitchenette woke him early – around sunrise, and he peered over the back of the couch to see what it was.

It was Earl.

"Hey, Dad, how are you feelin'?" Wade padded over to the counter to make his morning brew, yawning and rubbing his head.

"I'm real good. Look," he said, holding his bare arm out. The line had almost receded to his thumb and the infected wound looked better than it had yesterday. He pulled his arm back to pour milk into his coffee and three sugars, lifting the steaming mug to his mouth. They both shuffled back to the couch.

Earl gazed around the large open plan room. "You got a nice place here, Wade. You doin' well for yourself, boy, what with bein' a business owner and datin' the pretty doctor."

"This place is alright, Dad. It's fine for a bachelor like me, but I'd never ask Zoe to live here. You've seen her place, right? Earl nodded. "She's got it lookin' real nice over there at the carriage house," Wade said. They sat quietly for a few minutes while they enjoyed their coffee, neither of them feeling the need to fill the silence. "Did I tell you I'm buildin' the doc a new closet?" Wade said conversationally after awhile.

"Nope. How's that goin'?"

"It's good. I'm finished with the framin', and the electrical and plumbing will get done next week. Lavon's hired professionals for that part of the renovation."

"Why do ya need plumbing? I thought the pretty lady already had a bathroom."

"She does. The plumbing is for the kitchenette and laundry I'm puttin' in for her. With her diabetes, she's gotta have food on hand and be able to make herself somethin' to eat when she needs to."

Earl shook his head, startled. Did he hear his boy right? "Diabetes! Ain't the doc to young for that?"

Wade realized what he'd said. "Um, Dad, I need you to keep all that to yourself, you hear. Zoe doesn't want the whole town knowin' about her condition and the renovation is a surprise for her."

"Sure thing, Wade. I won't say nothin'. Is the pretty lady okay?"

Wade patted his dad's uninjured hand reassuringly. "She's fine, Dad; she just wants to keep her private business private, is all. I shouldn't have told you – it just slipped out. C'mon old man, let's make some breakfast. I got the ingredients here for bacon and eggs, and then I'll bring you home after Zoe gives you the all clear. We're going on our first official date today."

Earl grinned, and heaved his tired old bones into a standing position. "Where you takin' her?"

"You remember the Fairchild Plantation out on _Jacinta Road_?" Wade asked, pulling the makings for a fry-up out of his small fridge.

"Yeah, I do. That was a real pretty place in its day. No one's lived there in more 'an forty years, though."

"I know. It's in the hands of a trustee now, and they hired me a while back to keep an eye on the place and keep the grass mowed around the house. Well, I'm takin' Zoe there for a picnic and we're gonna go orange pickin' in the orchard."

"Sounds romantic," Earl said, smirking. "You think those trustees will ever sell it? It'd make a nice home for a fine woman like the pretty doctor. Course, you'd need to fix it up some."

Wade flipped the eggs in the sizzling pan. "Dad! Will you stop marryin' me and Zoe off already. I'll ask her in my own time, when the moment's right. And yes, I think the trustees will sell the plantation. The last Fairchild died a few months back and they're just tidying up the estate, gathering in all of the debts and assets."

"What do ya think it'll go for?" Earl asked, as they took their plates to the table. He squeezed ketchup all over his, and Wade did they same. They were two peas in a pod.

"I'm not certain," Wade admitted. "It's the four acres of land that's worth the money – not the house. The mansion's in pretty rough condition and vandals have made a bit of a mess inside, but I asked Babs Foster what she thought the property was worth, and she reckoned it wouldn't fetch more than $150,000.00."

Earl gasped. "Jesus, boy. Where you gonna get money like that?"

"Who said I was buyin' it?" Wade retorted. Earl shot him a look that said '_who are trying to fool_'. "Alright," he conceded. "I've been chatting with Peggy down at the bank. She looked over the Rammer Jammer's interim financial statement, and she seems to think with it doin' so well, I might qualify for a partial loan, but I'd need to come up with a one third down payment. And that's the biggest obstacle. I've only got some of it saved."

Fifty thousand, Earl pondered. He thought he might have close to that amount buried in the back yard. Most of it was Wade's money anyway. It was only right to give it back to him. He put the idea aside for the moment, 'til he could dig it all up and count it.

"Hello!" Zoe's voice rang from outside.

"Not a word about anythin' we've been talkin' about, Dad," Wade reminded, as he stood up to let Zoe into the gatehouse.

…

Wade brought his father home with a bottle of antibiotic pills from Zoe, and strict instructions to take three a day with food until they were all gone. He made sure Earl was settled and then he headed into town to _Gourmet Goods_ to pick up some things for the picnic.

"Mornin' Dash," Wade greeted as he walked into the pleasantly pungent atmosphere of the store. It was crowded that morning with townsfolk looking for delicacies to excite their palates.

"Morning, Wade. What can I help you with today?"

"I need some things for a picnic – finger foods and fillin's for sandwiches. Maybe a half bottle of Pinot and some of that fancy beer you got in last week."

Dash whipped his recorder out of his pocket, shoving it in Wade's face quicker than he ever thought possible. "Could you share a few words for the _Blawker_, Wade? The town is frothing for news about you and the good doctor."

Wade decided to throw Dash a bone. "I can report that we're officially datin', and I can report that we have a date today, but I ain't tellin' you where or when. I don't need any nosy interlopers messin' it all up for me." He escaped with a basket to complete his shopping.

Dash spoke into his recorder. "Well you heard it here, folks. Wade Kinsella and Zoe Hart are an item once again. They're dating and I can deduce from Wade's comments and purchases (Dash was following Wade around the shop) that he's taking our doctor on a picnic. Sounds romantic; let's hope Wade doesn't mess it all up again."

Wade rolled his eyes, dumping a bottle of wine and a four-pack of boutique beer into his basket. "The support I get in this town never ceases to amaze me," he said sardonically in earshot of Dash. "Where are the crackers kept?" he demanded, "and I need some of those black and white cookies Zoe likes so much."

Dash grinned and directed Wade to the dry goods section of the store. He plucked what he wanted from the shelf, and then took his purchases to the counter, pleased with his selections. All he had to do was run by the Rammer Jammer for some sparkling water and some salad ingredients and he'd be all set. He looked over the deli treats, cheeses and cold ham he'd collected, hoping Zoe would enjoy them.

"Have a good time, Wade. I'm expecting a full report from you tomorrow, or I'll just have to interview Zoe," Dash threatened. Wade's eyes bulged furiously. He bloody-well would, too, if Wade didn't give him something.

"Fine. Just keep today's date out of your blog until tomorrow, and I'm only agreein' to give you the highlights, so you keep your questions polite, or I ain't sayin' anything," Wade asserted. He took his paper carry bag of purchases and escaped out the door, before Dash could make any further demands or worse yet, invite himself on their date for a first hand report.

…

Wade knocked on the door of the carriage house at midday. Zoe came to the door, dressed in orange three quarter length jeans and a blue and orange striped top with accents of white piping. Her hair was in a ponytail and she wore white, canvas sand shoes on her feet. The shoes gave him pause – he'd never seen her wear any footwear that was less than a hundred dollars. He'd told her to dress casual and she had.

"You look gorgeous," he complimented, grinning. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yep." She swung her bag over her head and across her body, and took his proffered hand so he could escort her to the old plantation truck. She shot him an inquiring look about the change in vehicles.

"Where we're goin' is a bit off the beaten track," Wade said. "My car's a bit too low to drive through comfortably," he explained. He helped her into the high cab, but not before she peeked into the back and spotted the wicker picnic basket tied to the side with ropes.

"Did you lose your beer crate?" she teased.

"Hah, hah," he retorted, and then blushed. "No, I've still got it," he admitted sheepishly, "but I wanted to give you a nice time, so I borrowed this one from Lavon and AnnaBeth."

Wade cranked the old truck and drove off, turning out of the driveway onto _Plantation Road_. The Fairchild Plantation adjoined Lavon's place, but there was no vehicle access between the two properties. There was a covered footbridge over the creek that made up the shared boundary, and Lavon kept it in good condition, but Wade didn't want Zoe walking all that way the first time they went there.

"So, where are we going?" she asked excitedly. "I've been wracking my brain trying to figure out where we can go orange picking close by to BlueBell."

Wade turned his head and smiled at her. "Who said we're leavin' BlueBell?" he teased, turning left onto _Jacinta Road_. Leafy trees in varying shades of summer and autumn colors lined both sides of the road, and horses and cows grazed the fields beyond them.

"I've never been out this way before," Zoe remarked as they drove along. "It's really beautiful."

"It's mostly public grazin' land for farmers now, but there's one place up ahead that's still privately owned," Wade said, stopping in front of old iron gates overgrown with foliage. He parked and got out to push them open, thankful he'd kept them greased and easier to move than the first time he'd been there.

"What is this place?" Zoe asked as he drove between the gate columns. "It looks like private property."

"It is, but I've got permission to be here. Don't worry, doc; Sheriff Bill won't be haulin' us off to jail." He stopped to close the gates, and then he drove through the long grass that had overtaken the gravel driveway. Ancient oak trees lined the long road, dripping with Spanish moss and shading the carriageway.

"Oh, wow. This place is beautiful," Zoe whispered. She looked around with awe filled eyes.

Wade felt his heart zing. He knew it was gonna be a great day. Sometimes the simple things a person did for another were best – those were the things that came from the heart, and not from any misplaced ideas about what you thought the other person wanted. The simple things filled a need, and that's what was important.

"Look up ahead, Zoe," Wade coached, knowing the old mansion would come into view in just a moment. She gasped as she got her first glimpse of the large, double story, clapboard house built in the Greek revival style and fronted with white ornate columns. He parked under a tree, and got out to help Zoe from the truck. "This is the Fairchild Plantation," he told her. "The orchard's behind the house, a short walk away."

Her mouth was open in astonishment and she kept looking from the house to Wade and back again. "This place is amazing. Can we go inside the house?" she asked hopefully.

"Yeah, we can, but you can only go where I say. It's basically condemned and it's dangerous in some places – floorboards are rotted and there's dry rot in some of the support beams."

She was jiggling around so much in anticipation, Wade thought she might have ants in her pants. "Calm down, doc." He took her hand and led her up to the house.

The porch was completely gone exposing the red brick foundations and leaving the front steps going nowhere. Two twelve foot high windows graced each side of the imposing front door beneath a small balcony jutting out from the upstairs hallway. He took an old iron key from his pocket and inserted it into the lock, swinging the door open.

"Up you go," Wade said, lifting Zoe three feet to the first floor of the house. He bounded up beside her and led her into the front entry, leaving the door wide open to light the dimly lit room beyond it.

Zoe stepped forward and then faltered, looking at Wade. "It's fine. Most of the problems are upstairs. This is the entry hallway. It runs from front to back and it has four large rooms leading off it. He walked with her through what was once the parlor, the dining room, a music room and a library. "The kitchen and laundry are in an extension built in the 1930s, tacked onto the dining room," he told her. "There's a lot of neglect, but I think it could be really beautiful if … um … someone had the mind and the money to restore it," he said awkwardly. She nodded and smiled, running her hand over the original marble fireplace surround and mantle in the parlor.

"The ceilings on the ground floor are fourteen feet high," Wade said, looking up. "The chandeliers are gone – prob'ly stolen years ago – but most of the period features are still intact, like the coving and the skirting boards."

"You sound like a real estate agent," Zoe said, curling her hand around Wade's arm.

"I love this place," he admitted.

"I can tell from the way you talk about it. Can we go upstairs?"

"Yep, but you have to stay in the hallway. You can look into the rooms, but you can't go inside them." She nodded her agreement, and Wade led her up the impressive staircase to the second floor landing. "There are five bedrooms up here and one bathroom, which was converted sometime back in the 40s." He pointed to the end of the hallway to a double set of French doors. "Those lead onto the balcony overlooking the front door." They walked along, peeking into rooms that opened off the hallway that was wide enough to be considered a room in its own right.

"This hallway would make a great upstairs sitting room," Zoe remarked, "and you could turn that large bedroom at the front of the house and the smaller room beside it into a master suite. How high are the ceilings on the second level?"

"Eleven feet," Wade said, "and the windows up here are nine feet high. There's an attic in the roof that was once used for storage, but it gets too hot up there to be useful as living space."

"I can see why you love it so much," Zoe said, standing at the open French doors to look out over the tree lined drive and front garden. She leaned her head against Wade's shoulder and clasped her tiny hands around his muscular arm. A warm breeze blew through the aperture, making wisps of hair dance around her face. They stood there for a long time, simply enjoying the natural quiet, and the rustle of leaves, grass and birds chirping in the trees. Eventually, they turned away and Wade shut the old doors, before leading Zoe down the staircase.

"There's a large portico on the rear of the house that was once used as an enclosed conservatory. It has a gorgeous marble floor under all of the debris that's fallen. I'll show you that on our way to the orchard," Wade said, jumping out the front door and onto the ground. He lifted Zoe down to stand beside him, and reached in to pull the door shut, locking it again. "Let's eat, doc; it's nearly two," he said, shocked at how much time they'd spent exploring the house together.

Zoe unfolded a blanket over the grass under an old oak tree in the front garden, while Wade brought the picnic basket. "For your dining pleasure, m'lady," he said, grinning, "we have a selection of berries, cheeses, cold meat, rustic sandwiches and delights from the delicatessen." Zoe giggled and helped Wade to lay out the feast between them. "And for dessert, your favorite cookies," he said, displaying the package with a flourish.

"This looks delicious," she said, popping a fresh, whole strawberry into her mouth. "And, you remembered I like black and white cookies," she said, touched by his thoughtfulness. She leaned forward over the food and kissed his lips softly, opening her mouth when the tip of his tongue edged forward tentatively, asking permission to deepen the caress. When they pulled away, Zoe's eyelids were heavy with desire. "In case I forget to tell you later, I had a really good time today," she whispered, borrowing a line from the movie, '_Pretty Woman_'."

"So did I." Wade smiled and reclined onto the blanket. He reached into the picnic basket and pulled a chiller pack from the bottom. "I have Pinot, sparkling water or fancy beer," Wade said. "What's your pleasure, sweetheart?"

She blushed at the endearment. She couldn't remember Wade addressing her as anything other than Zoe or Doc before today, but she liked it. It made her feel special. "I'll have a half glass of Pinot and a large glass of water," she said. "Cheers," she toasted, when Wade had an open beer in his hand and she held her wine glass.

"To us," he returned. They clinked glasses and sipped, then ate enjoyably from the picnic buffet until they were both replete.

They talked about New York and Zoe's plans to keep her hands in surgery. She planned on applying for hospital privileges and a part-time surgical position at Mobile Presbyterian Hospital working forty or fifty hours per month. Brick was being supportive, and they'd even talked about expanding the practice to offer minor surgical procedures to the locals.

"So, did you learn a lot in New York? Did you get to do all of the heart surgeries you'd been dreamin' about?" Wade asked, genuinely interested. He'd come to realize that being a surgeon was important to Zoe – it was what she'd worked for her entire life – and she shouldn't have to abandon her dreams, just because she fell in love with a backwoods bartender from the deep south who hated the city.

"I did," she said decisively. "My Dad was in New York and he got me a cardiothoracic surgical rotation. He taught me so much, Wade. My dad is really brilliant at what he does and I assisted on countless surgeries with him. A few times – before I got sick – he just stood back and let me lead, effectively assisting _me_. He was there if I needed help or to ask a question, but he _really_ trusted me, Wade. You have no idea how good that felt," she said wistfully. "He told me how proud he was of me, and that he'd give me a reference if I needed one for the hospital in Mobile. So did my Chief of Surgery."

"That's real good, doc. You deserve it and I know how good you are at what you do. George said that what you and Ethan did for his dad was phenomenal. He's like a new man – healthier than he's been in years. The people of Alabama can only benefit from your gifted hands, Zoe, and you have my full support," Wade told her earnestly.

She blinked rapidly to disperse her sudden tears, and before he knew what was coming, she'd climbed over the remnants of their picnic to tumble him to the ground. "Thank you, Wade. You saying that means the world to me." She kissed him and he responded, making a little love to her through her clothes.

"Are you ready to go orange picking?" Wade asked a long while later, fighting to calm his sexual excitement. The afternoon sun had moved lower in the western sky as the day waned. "I figure we've got an hour or so b'fore we'll have to think about leavin'."

"Yes. Let's pack up first, and then we can spend more time in the orchard," Zoe suggested, scrambling to her feet.

They made quick work clearing up the picnic, and Wade produced a plastic trash bag for the rubbish. He took the basket back to the truck and returned with another one – this one open at the top – to place the fruit in. Taking her hand, he led her around the side of the house, showing her the portico like he'd promised on the way to the orchard.

"It's not too far, doc. The orchard supplied the house with fruit most of the year." He pointed off to the right. "There used to be stables for horses once upon a time, but the buildings fell down years ago."

"How big is this place?"

"About four acres. Lavon's place and this one share a boundary. We can walk over here one day if you'd like – it's a pretty stroll and there's a footbridge over the creek."

"There aren't any gators in the creek, are there?" she said, shuddering.

He chuckled. "No, but there is a pond a lot like the one between our places. It's pretty choked with weeds, though, and I wouldn't recommend swimmin' in it. I reckon there are gators in it, and prob'ly cottonmouth snakes," he added without thinking. "You ever see one of them, doc, you back up real slowly and walk away. Their bite is potentially lethal, and they like to swim in ponds, creeks and marshes."

She stopped dead, turning horrified eyes on him. "What about our pond?" she screeched. "I swim in it all the time."

Wade realized his mistake too late to backtrack to a safer topic. "I keep it pretty clear of weeds, doc, and Burt Reynolds keeps most other reptiles away from his territory," he reassured her, his hand tightening around hers. "All the same, never take anything for granted, 'specially down here in the south. Copperheads and cottonmouths aren't the only vipers inhabitin' the area," he said, meaning something else entirely. She shuddered and stepped carefully through the grass, holding onto him for dear life. "Don't worry, doc, I won't lead you into danger … and I'm sorry for scarin' you."

"It's okay – it's not like I haven't been bitten by a snake before, but I don't care to repeat the experience. Is that the orchard?" she asked, pointing to a large grouping of trees of varying sizes mapped out in a diamond pattern.

"Yep. The orange trees are around the perimeter and there are lemons, too. Inside are peaches, pears, plums and apples. I think there are some wild raspberry canes growin' somewhere, and I'm pretty certain there's even an apricot tree. I know they're your favorite stone fruit."

"Do you think the trees are still fruiting this late after summer ended?"

"There are certainly oranges, doc, I saw some on the trees last week. There might be some other fruit, as long as the birds haven't eaten them. Let's jus' gather what we can, beginnin' with the oranges and we'll work our way inward."

Wade held the basket while Zoe searched the trees for the ripest, plumpest fruit and before long she had a dozen oranges and a couple of lemons. Wade enveloped her small hand in his larger one and led her inside the diamond, brushing away bees and butterflies searching for food just like they were.

"There's the apricot tree, doc, right in the middle, and I see fruit on it."

She began dragging him toward the tree. "Hurry up, Wade. There are birds eating my fruit," she said possessively. He laughed and followed agreeably. "Oh, they're too high," she moaned, looking up into the tree, "and there's a really good bunch right near the fork of that branch."

Wade lowered the fruit basket to the ground and looked up to where Zoe was pointing, figuring the distance was about eight feet from the ground. He had an idea. He crouched down. "Zoe, get on my shoulders. I'll lift you up; you can pick them and hand them down to me." She made a sound that Wade could have sworn was a squeal, and she moved eagerly to climb onto his shoulders. Wade held her hands and prepared to stand. "You ready?"

"Yep," she said breathlessly.

"Okay, hold on and don't let go 'til I'm fully standing. And don't make any sudden moves, doc, or we're liable to both end up on the ground, and you've got a lot further to fall than I do."

"Okay, I promise."

Wade stood slowly, holding onto her hands to keep them both steady. He moved closer to the trunk, but still slightly away from where the fruit was growing. "Okay, let go … slowly," Wade said, clamping his hands over her knees. She carefully reached up and plucked an apricot from the tree, bringing it close to her nose to sniff the waning scent of summer.

"Here's the first one," Zoe said. Wade reached out and caught it, letting it roll gently off his fingers and into the basket. They kept on like this, until Zoe had picked around two dozen apricots. "Okay, I think that's it," she said. "You can let me down now." Wade eased down allowing Zoe to dismount, and she stood up, grinning happily and scraping wisps of hair away from her perspiring forehead. "That was so much fun. Thank you, Wade."

"My pleasure, doc." He gathered her into his arms and hugged her, burying his nose in the crook of her neck, which smelled deliciously like fruit, blossoms and summer.

They wandered the orchard for a few more minutes, picking some late peaches and plums for the basket. The sun was low in the western sky when Wade suggested they'd best be getting home, since Zoe wanted to run by Earl's place to check on his arm. Walking back to the mansion, their hands swinging companionably between them, Zoe munched on juicy apricots, while Wade grinned – the happiest he'd been since last Christmas when Zoe asked him to be her out-in-public-for-real-boyfriend.

…

A/N: Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. Please review and let me know that you appreciate all of my hard work in writing this story for all of us. A short message is all it takes to let me know you're all still reading and that you like where things are going.

Photos for the chapter are on my blog at jkazziefanfiction dot wordpress dot com.

Zoe's 'Imelda' reference refers to Imelda Marcos, the former first Lady of the Philippines and a politician in her own right. She is well known for her shoe fetish, once reported to own 2,700 pairs of shoes.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter references, fictional places and characters are the sole property of J K Rowling and Warner Bros Studios. No infringement is intended.


	7. Chapter 7 - Surprises and Secrets

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The CW is the author and owner of Hart of Dixie. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

…

AN: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. Your support is appreciated.

…

Chapter 7 – Surprises and Secrets

Zoe rolled over in bed and stretched awake, feeling happier inside than she'd felt in nearly seven months. Her dates with Wade these past couple of weeks had been everything she'd hoped for … and then some. When he put his mind to it, Wade could show a girl a really great time, but apart from a little heavy petting, there'd been no sex in sight.

Zoe wanted sex. She _craved_ sex. She _needed_ sex! And, she wanted, craved, and needed it with Wade. After experiencing triple A+ sex for the first time in her life, her body had grown accustomed to the pleasure Wade gave it, and being in close proximity to him again, made her body yearn for its mate. The last time she'd had a really good roll in the hay – literally – had been right before she broke it off with Wade.

Zoe sighed and pursed her lips thoughtfully, sitting up against her padded headboard. She looked at the vacant side of her bed sadly. It was huge and empty without Wade in it. Plus, she liked cuddling and waking up beside him, and she missed the morning loving she'd gotten used to when they'd slept together BC … before Chlorine, the girl he'd cheated with.

Ever since they'd begun dating again, Wade had been a perfect gentleman: holding her hand; helping her in and out of vehicles; gifting her the _New York Times_ every Monday; making sure she ate healthily, and generally being protective and helpful. But not once, had he tried to take their kisses or light lovemaking to the next level, and it was driving her up the wall! She'd even slyly taken his pulse yesterday when they'd been rolling around on the sand during an outing to the beach, just to check that he was still … well, Wade Kinsella. She'd been wearing really short, cutoff jeans and a cute white bikini top and he'd kept his hands behind her back and above her waist the entire time.

But, his pulse had been pounding a mile a minute, so he was definitely still into her. She just needed to make him sit up and take notice and it had to be something that would whet his appetite, so he simply couldn't say no. She began to smile as a truly brilliant idea bloomed; making a mental note to corral AnnaBeth into giving her what she wanted if plan A didn't pan out.

Zoe tossed the covers aside …

…

Thirty minutes later, dressed and ready for work, Zoe fired up her espresso machine, dropped two slices of bread into the toaster, switched the plasma TV on, preheated her straightening iron, and turned her hairdryer to its hottest setting.

Fifteen seconds passed. "Three … two … one."

The fuse box blew with a deafening bang. Zoe grinned.

"Dammit, Zoe!" Wade yelled from across the pond.

"Sorry," she yelled back, pleased with herself.

She turned everything off and grabbed the full cup of coffee from her espresso machine to walk out and meet Wade at the fuse box. She sashayed around the pond to the halfway point where her shirtless boyfriend was inspecting the fried mess of tangled wires and melted fuses.

"Can you fix it?" Zoe said, sipping her coffee as she enjoyed the show.

He pulled at the frayed wires, clearly aggravated. "Just how much stuff did you turn on this morning, doc?" he asked. He had yet to turn around.

"Oh, just a few things," she responded airily.

He slammed the metal door of the fuse box, slotting his screwdriver into the tool belt he wore. "It was more than a few things, doc," he stated. "You blowin' the fuses every other day was the one thing I didn't miss 'bout –"

He trailed off as he turned around and laid eyes on Zoe for the first time that morning, "um, you bein' gone," he finished. Good Lord, she was a sexy piece of dynamite. Wade smirked as he took in his petite doll all dressed up in a tight, black skirt suit; sheer hosiery, sky high black heels and red framed sunglasses. Her brunette hair was pulled up into a tight arrangement he'd once heard Tansy call a 'French roll', and her lips were perfectly painted with sexy, glossy red lipstick.

"Good morning, Wade," she said, smirking back.

"Oh, yeah … it certainly is," he said distractedly, as his eyes tracked her body from her head to her toes and back again … slowly. He shook his head. "Doc, you look –" He let loose a high pitched whistle. "Phew, doc, just who are you tryin' to impress today?" He moved towards her cockily and removed the coffee cup from her hand, placing it on top of the fuse box.

She shrugged casually. "No one in particular. I gather you like the way I look today?"

"Oh, I _like _alright," he said. "In fact, there is _nothin'_ about you I don't approve of. Um, doc, are you actually wearin' anything under that little jacket?" he asked playfully.

Zoe quirked her brows in a _'wouldn't you like to know'_ gesture. His face replied _'Yeah, I would'._ Wade reached out and slipped his index finger between her lapel and her skin, pulling the fabric slightly so he could peek beneath.

His smirk widened. "Now that … that's my favorite underwear, doc," he drawled, glimpsing the lacy, black bra … and nothing else.

She brushed his fingers away and straightened the lapel, trying not to grin triumphantly. Her plan was working out great, so far. "This old thing?" she asked. "I can't remember. I have so _many_ lingerie sets," she said teasingly.

He took the bait. "Yeah, and I've removed most of 'em – more than once, if I recall," he bragged.

"Mmm, yes, I think that rings a bell." Zoe reached out and ran a finger slowly along his sternum to his navel where she circled the indentation. The muscles in his taut belly flinched invitingly and he gasped, grabbing hold of her hand to still her wandering fingers. She pouted.

"Doc, _what_ are you doing?"

"Just reacquainting myself with your body," she said flirtatiously. "Would you like to … return the favor?" she invited, smiling sultrily. She wrapped her other hand around Wade's neck, leaning into him, and trapping their joined hands between them. "I don't need to be at work 'til ten," she whispered near his ear. "We have three whole hours to get to know each other … all over again." Zoe blew in his ear and then trailed her lips along his jaw to kiss him, transferring some of her red lipstick to his mouth.

Pulling back, Wade grinned. "I know what you're doin', doc, but it ain't gonna work."

"I don't know what you mean," she said, trying to look innocent. He cocked a brow of disbelief – she wasn't that good an actress. "Okay," she conceded, "but we've been dating for three weeks," Zoe whined. "I want you Wade. Don't you want me, too?" she cajoled, drawing on his chest with her finger.

He sighed. "You know I do, doc. I'll always want you, and soon I'll prove it to you," he promised, cupping her heart-shaped butt in his large hands. He squeezed gently for good measure and leaned down to kiss her plump red lips. "But, I gotta go to Mobile today, doc. I've gotta get some things I can't get in town, including a new fuse box – that one's completely fried," he told her, nudging his head toward it. She pouted again. "You want power tonight, don't you, doc?"

"Yes," she conceded.

"Well then; you go to work and I'll go to Mobile and I'll see you tonight. What time do you finish? I thought I might cook you dinner."

"Seven," she said sulkily.

"Perfect."

"Not everything," she moaned. He rolled his eyes. "Oh, alright," she huffed. "I might as well go to work, since I've got no power," she grumbled, turning to leave.

Wade grinned as he watched her. "Have a great day, doc," he called. She held an arm up and waved as she walked away, her hips swinging enticingly in the tight, black skirt decorated with two perfect, white handprints over her butt.

…

Zoe stopped by the Butter Stick on her way to the practice for a to-go coffee and a breakfast of fruit salad and yogurt, and an English muffin. Lemon Breeland was sniggering in the corner with two of BlueBell's more irritating Belles, talking loudly about Zoe whilst she waited for her order to be ready.

"Well, it seems that Dr Zoe Hart is still making a spectacle of herself," said Lemon in that irritatingly shrill voice of hers. Zoe rolled her eyes. "She's ruined a perfectly lovely suit with her citified ways of accessorizing." Her two companions twittered like birds, covering their mouths as if that would hide their meanness.

Zoe looked down at her clothes, perplexed: black Chanel suit – check; black Louboutin four inch heels – check; red Louis Vuitton bag – check; red framed sunglasses in hand – check. What's not to like? She looked hot! "Oh, get a life, Lemon Breeland," she hissed, turning her back on the bitching Belles. They howled with laughter and Zoe stiffened. "What is _wrong_ with those women?" Zoe asked Agnes desperately, as she collected her order.

"Who knows, Dr Hart. Lemon Breeland hasn't been herself for months now, ever since she broke up with that biologist from New Orleans." Agnes leaned forward to gossip, "But, there's a rumor that Lemon Breeland has a new secret lover, though, in my opinion, he's not doing his job very well – if you know what I mean – since she's always so irritable lately."

Zoe snort-laughed, but then quieted in sympathy. "I know how she feels," she mumbled.

"What's that, dear?" asked Agnes, not quite catching what Zoe said.

"I said, maybe she's ill."

Agnes looked surprised. "Oh, well I 'spose that's possible, but what would make a woman of her age that irritable for two months straight?" Agnes' eyes widened. "Oh! Maybe she's pre –"

"Agnes!" Zoe interrupted hurriedly. "We don't know _anything_. As much as Lemon Breeland isn't my favorite person, it wouldn't be fair to perpetuate an unfounded rumor."

"Of course, Dr Hart. You're absolutely right and it's not my business in any case."

"Thank you, Agnes. You have a good day," Zoe said, as she turned to leave, somewhat relieved to have averted a crisis. The last thing she need right now was to be blamed for yet another disaster concerning a BlueBell resident, and especially one about her business partner's daughter.

Agnes' eyes widened as Zoe Hart walked out the door. "Oh, my," she giggled as she realized why the Belles had been ridiculing the town doctor. "Oh, Dr Hart!" she called loudly, but she was already gone. Agnes shrugged her shoulders and served her next customer, forgetting about Zoe Hart and Lemon Breeland.

Dash DeWitt – not so much. He wiggled excitedly in his seat and sipped his coffee, while scribbling copious notes in his tattle book. His latest blog was taking shape in his head as he wrote …_"Well, bloggers, there's some talk in town about a certain blonde of some repute who may or may not be in the family way. And, it seems that our town doctor may know something about it …"_

…

"Morning, Brick," Zoe greeted cheerfully, as she walked into the practice. "Hi, Shelby."

Brick pulled away from canoodling with his young wife of four months duration. "Good morning, Dr Hart. What are you doing here so early? I thought your first patient wasn't until ten?"

"It's not, but Wade went to Mobile, so I thought I might as well come in to work."

"Well fine, but you keep your hands off my patients. I've got a full diary this morning, and you're not absconding with any more of them."

Zoe made a face. "Hah, hah, Dr Breeland," she said. "You know I only steal the ones that ask for me," she retorted. Brick scoffed goodnaturedly. Their bickering over patients was part of their repartee after two years working together. They shared patients when the need arose, and many of their patients chose to visit whomever was available on a day-to-day basis. Zoe turned and walked into her office to eat breakfast, leaving Brick and Shelby rearing in surprise as she left reception.

Brick held his hands out, pantomiming Zoe's newest accessory. "I wonder if she knows?" he wondered aloud.

Shelby giggled. "I doubt it, but I'd hazard a guess that Wade Kinsella does."

Brick snorted. "Do something about that will you, sweetheart, before she humiliates herself and my practice any further than she already has. It's probably all over town by now, since she's obviously been to the Butter Stick for her breakfast."

"I'm on it," Shelby said, saluting her husband. He left for his own office and Shelby picked up a stack of patient files that needed completing before walking into Dr Hart's office. She was standing at her desk, her back to Shelby as she sipped her coffee and looked through phone messages. "Dr Hart?"

Zoe started, spilling coffee over her desk blotter. "Shit," she mumbled, reaching for a surgical cloth to mop it up. "Geez, don't do that, Shelby. How do you sneak around in heels? Tell me, please, so I can get Brick off my back about the divots in the floor," she begged.

"It's a God given talent," Shelby rejoined. "That, and I wear soft heel guards on my shoes to protect the timber." She held her foot back to show Zoe the padded, clear rubber accessory attached to the heel of her stiletto shoe.

Zoe blinked. "How do I not know about these?" she said in wonder, "and where do I buy them?"

"You've probably never cared enough to worry about floors before and you buy them online," Shelby said, slapping the stack of files she carried onto the dry edge of Zoe's desk. "I'll send you the link. In the meantime, I've got a spare set you can use, but _only_ if you complete these patient charts while you still remember what you treated people for." Zoe sighed and made a face – there went her leisurely breakfast. "I've completed the patient appointment dates and a brief reason for their visit, but you need to do the rest and since you've got nothing better to do for the next two hours, you can do them now. But first, have you looked at yourself in the mirror this morning?"

Zoe rolled her eyes. "Yes," she snapped. "Why is everyone fussing over what I'm wearing today. It's a perfectly nice, professional looking suit."

Shelby shook her head. "It's not the suit; it's what's on it."

"What are you talking about?" she said, looking down at her tight, knee-length skirt and fitted jacket. She couldn't see anything on it.

Shelby took her arm and led her over to the closet, opening the door to reveal the full-length mirror. "Turn to the side and take a look." Zoe did as she was told, gasping loudly as she spotted two Wade sized, white handprints over her butt.

"I'm gonna kill him," she snarled, frantically wiping at her butt with her hands. "It's not coming off," she whined, beginning to panic. Zoe gasped, trying to catch her breath. "I think (gasp) I'm hyper-hyperventilating," she whimpered. "This suit is vintage (gasp) Chanel," she cried. "I stole it out of my mother's closet (gasp) when she wasn't looking."

Shelby grabbed a vomit bag from the supply closet. "Here, breath into this. I'll be back," she said, running from the office and bumping into her husband as she rounded the corner.

He steadied her by the shoulders. "What is the tearing hurry, Shelby?"

"Dr Hart is hyperventilating and I need to get a cloth to clean her skirt."

"Why is that your job? You're _my wife_, Shelby; not Zoe Hart's maid!" he said angrily.

She patted him on the chest. "Oh, honey, you're naiveté about women's clothing is so sweet, but that type of talk isn't helping. Now, either get me a wet cloth, or help your business partner catch her breath. What's it gonna be?"

"I'll get the cloth," he said grudgingly. "Give her a bag to breath into," he said, as he departed.

"Already done," Shelby said, returning to Zoe's office. Brick came in with a damp cloth and handed it to Shelby. She rubbed at Zoe's butt vigorously, while he took Zoe's pulse and monitored her breathing.

He rolled his eyes at the kerfuffle over a blasted skirt. If he lived to be a hundred; he'd never understand women and their obsession with clothes and shoes. "Dr Hart, if you don't calm yourself down, I'm going to force feed you half a valium," Brick threatened. Zoe shot him a filthy look, but redoubled her efforts to get her breathing under control before Brick made good on his promise.

Shelby stopped rubbing at Zoe's skirt – it was only spreading the damage. "Dr Hart, it's not really working. I think you need to get this skirt to the cleaners immediately if you want to save it. Do you have something else you can wear?"

"No. Yes! I've got clothes at the cleaners!" she suddenly remembered, spinning around.

"Well then, go. Hurry!" Shelby ordered.

"Okay. Yes. Cleaners. Going." Zoe grabbed her purse and ran from the office, across town square and along the sidewalk to the _Wash and Fold_ as fast as she possibly could in her tight skirt and sky-high heels. Wade was driving through town on his way to Mobile and noticed the doc racing into the laundry, his handprints on her rump. He figured she'd noticed them at last. He laughed as he passed by, happily unaware of the yawning pit of trouble he'd created for himself, but which he'd learn about that evening.

…

Earl picked up the handset of his old rotary dial telephone and called the number written on the pad he held. It was answered after only a few rings by the very person he wanted to speak with.

"_Hello, this is Earl Kinsella."_ He listened to the person on the other end of the phone, responding to their questions politely.

"_Yes, I'm fine, thank you. Kind of you to ask. And you?"_

_Earl nodded. "That's good. Glad to hear it."_

"_Well, I'll get to the point of my call, since I know you're busy. I was wonderin' if you wouldn't mind escortin' me into town today … to the bank."_

"_Well, no, I'd rather not, and Wade's busy."_

"_You will? That's wonderful. I really 'ppreciate it."_

"_Yep, three o'clock is fine. I'll see you then."_

Earl hung up the phone and sat on his old leather couch. He filled a faded pillow slip with bundles of money and tied it off with a thick rubber band, sitting it beside him. He picked up an old savings bank book from the coffee table, and opened it to read the account details on the inside front cover. _Wade Earl Kinsella. Age: 7._ It was the savings account Jacqueline Kinsella opened for Wade a few years before she got sick with the cancer and left them. It had $750 in it, but Earl figured most of it had been eaten up with fees after twenty years of no deposits. There was an identical one for Jesse, his eldest boy, but he didn't really need it. Still, Earl figured he'd check the balance with the bank and send it to him.

At two o'clock, following lunch consisting of stale bread and a can of tuna, Earl went to shower and dress in his best suit. He wanted to look proper when he carried out his business at the bank, and he wasn't stupid enough not to know that his deposit would result in a lot of questions. Like, where he'd gotten the money from? He was prepared with honest answers. A rap on the door announced his escort and he went to answer it.

…

Wade pulled onto the _Plantation Road_ at around lunchtime in Lavon's black truck; the rear tray full of appliances, bicycle parts, and most importantly, a brand new, state of the art fuse box that would cope with the additional power usage. He had a lot to do in five hours and he'd had the foresight that morning to call Joel Fischer - the electrician - to come and install the new fuse box. It wasn't that Wade couldn't do it, but that he wouldn't have time to do everything before Zoe came home from the practice. Today was the big renovation reveal.

Joel was sitting in his truck eating lunch, when Wade pulled up outside the carriage house. He climbed out and reached into the rear for the new fuse box.

"Hey, Joel. Thanks for comin' out at short notice."

"No problem, Wade," he replied, tossing the remains of his lunch to Burt Reynolds who was keeping him company. "Do you want help getting those appliances inside?"

"Yeah, that'd be great."

The two men made short work of lifting the new refrigerator, microwave, dishwasher, and clothes washer and dryer into the carriage house. They began stripping the protective packaging, revealing the shiny, stainless steel appliances.

"Nice," said Joel. "My wife'd kill for new appliances like these ones. Dr Hart's a lucky woman and you ain't even married to her."

Wade blushed. They'd cost him two grand of his hard-earned savings, and he'd gotten a good bulk-cash deal at a wholesale warehouse, but he figured they could take them when the time came to move on. In the meantime, they'd get a lot of use and that was the priority.

"Thanks for your help, Joel. Send the bill for wiring the new fuse box to Lavon Hayes."

"Sure thing, Wade," Joel said agreeably, as he left the carriage house.

Wade got to work on the easy installations first, pushing the fridge into the cabinetry space he'd built, and then removed the tape holding the shelves, drawers and flip lids in place. He left the appliance off for the moment, giving the refrigerant gas a chance to settle. The microwave was an easy job and it slid snugly into its own cabinet above the gas powered cooktop and oven. It didn't take him long to hook the clothes washer to the new water supply and slide the dryer in beside it, leaving only the dishwasher installation, which would take him the longest. Grabbing his plumbing tools on the way back from his third trip to the dumpster bin he set to work installing the dishwasher.

…

Earl and his escort walked into the BlueBell branch of the _First Bank of Baldwin County_. He announced himself at the inquiries counter and took a seat to wait for his appointment with Peggy Brewster, the bank manager. He sat nervously with his pillowcase on his lap. Earl's escort made polite small talk in an attempt to calm the old man, but he was also full of curiosity, looking repeatedly at the bulging bag that Earl clung to.

"Mr Kinsella?" said a pretty woman in her mid-thirties.

"That's me," he answered quickly, holding up his hand.

She walked forward with her hand outstretched and Earl struggled to his feet to greet her. "Thank you for seein' me at short notice, Mrs Brewster," he said politely, shaking her hand.

"It's my pleasure, Mr Kinsella. I'm here to serve the community," she said, gesturing the way toward her office. Earl nodded and walk forward, turning around at the office door to speak tersely to his seated escort.

"Whatchya waitin' for, Mr Mayor? C'mon."

Lavon Hayes looked startled. "Ah, o-okay," he stuttered, shuffling to the office. He never expected to be in on the meeting, though his curiosity was killing him. He and Earl sat down in front of the bank manager's desk.

"Can I get you gentlemen some refreshments: coffee, tea or perhaps water?"

Earl spoke hoarsely, his mouth as dry as his front yard. "Some water please, Mrs Brewster." Lavon asked for the same.

"Certainly." Peggy reached into the mini fridge behind her desk and pulled out three water bottles, offering one to each to her two guests. She'd been brimming with curiosity all day as to the reason for Mr Kinsella's visit. Other than to collect his government check every month, the_ First Bank of Baldwin County_ never saw Earl Kinsella. She sat down and folded her hands in front of her, smiling at her clearly nervous customer. "How can I help you, Mr Kinsella?"

Earl hefted the bulging pillowcase from his lap and plopped it on her desk, pushing it toward her. "Call me Earl," he said. "I'd like to make a deposit, but not to my account. This is for my boy, Wade's, personal account. I got this here savings account his momma opened for him when he was just a boy of seven," Earl added, pulling the small book from his inside jacket pocket. He held it out to her and she took it, opening it up to verify the details and the balance.

"This is a very old account, Earl. I'm not sure if it's even open any more. Let me confirm it for you." She pressed some buttons on the computer keyboard. "Well, it's still open," she said, somewhat surprised. "Oh, I see why. You've been sending automatic transfers of $20 per month since 1993, and with interest, there's over $5,000.00 in this account." Earl's eyes bulged. "There's another one here, as well, for Jesse Kinsella. It has a similar balance," she said.

"Jacqueline must've done it," Earl muttered. "She always was a smart woman."

"Let's get these accounts fixed up before we discuss the deposit you want to make. I'll ask Ginny to set up two new savings accounts for your sons," said Mrs Brewster. "Do you have the other savings book with you?"

"Yep, it's here," Earl said, pulling it from his pocket and handing it to her.

"Okay, well, I'll just be a minute. Oh, do you want to continue the transfers every month?" she asked, as she stood up to leave the office.

"Yes," said Earl decisively. He didn't even have to think about. He might not have done much for his boys these past twenty years, and he may not have known about the transferred money, since he never looked at his bank statements – there was a box of them in the spare room, still in their envelopes, but that didn't mean he couldn't continue to save for his boys as long as he could. Mrs Brewster nodded and smiled, closing the door behind her.

Earl turned to Lavon. "Not a word 'bout this to Wade, Mr Mayor. When the time is right, I'll tell him about that account and the money m'self. If somethin' happens to me in the meantime, then you can tell 'im, but not before."

Lavon rubbed his head worriedly. He wasn't comfortable being put in this position – hiding something huge like this from his best friend. "Earl, I think you should tell Wade. He'll be pleased that you've saved all that money for him. You know, he thinks –"

Earl shook his head vehemently. "I know what my boy thinks. It's what I wanted him to think all these years, so he'd get on with his own life. But, I ain't been as bad with the drink recently, as I've made out." Lavon's brow rose in disbelief. "I know everyone calls me Crazy Earl – the town drunk, and I am, but things have been different since the pretty doctor came to town and Wade fell in love with her. She's the one for him and I want to be welcome in their lives … and my grandbabies lives. Wade ain't gonna allow that if I'm still drinkin' like I used to."

Earl could hear Mrs Brewster coming back. She was talking to someone outside the office door. "Now, promise me, Lavon."

"Alright, I promise," Lavon agreed reluctantly, "but only if you promise to tell him soon."

Earl pondered. "Fair enough. Deal." He held his hand out to shake on it and Lavon reciprocated.

Mrs Brewster entered her office. "Ginny's setting up those new accounts as we speak. Now, let's talk about this deposit you'd like to make."

"It's all there," Earl said, pointing to the bag on the desk.

"May I?" Mrs Brewster said, expecting loose change and dollar bills – perhaps a few hundred dollars.

"That's what we're here for," Earl replied.

She took the bag and removed the rubber band, looking inside. Her eyes widened. She tipped the bag and bundles of cash fell onto her desk, all in varying denominations ranging from dollar bills to fifties.

Lavon Hayes nearly choked on his water. Where did Earl Kinsella get that much money? According to Wade, Earl hadn't had two quarters to rub together for nearly fifteen years. This mound of money on the desk was a lot more than half a dollar.

"How much is here?" asked Peggy Brewster incredulously, as she picked through the bundles.

Earl straightened up and grinned. "$51,276.00," he said. "I counted it twice." Lavon Hayes nearly bit his tongue, his shock was so great. Earl chuckled.

Mrs Brewster tutted disapprovingly. "Mr Kinsella, this much money should really have been in the bank." Earl shrugged, unconcerned. He was only here with it now, 'cause he had a good reason. "I have to ask you, Earl; where did you get this much money?" she asked gently.

"Had it buried in the back yard," Earl disclosed blithely. Lavon's water went down the wrong pipe and he coughed and spluttered his disbelief for the second time in less than five minutes. "Never really did trust banks much … no offense," Earl added.

"None taken," said Mrs Brewster. "What changed your mind?"

"My boy wants to buy the _Fairchild Plantation_ when it comes up for sale. I want this to be his one third deposit, so you'll loan him the rest of it."

Peggy Brewster almost cried. She'd seen plenty of parents help their children with home deposits over her long career in the bank, but she'd never been witness to this much selflessness.

"Um, Earl," Lavon said, "Where did this money come from? I mean, Wade's been giving you money for years. Oh," he said as the penny dropped. "This is all Wade's money, isn't it?"

Earl nodded. "Yep. Most of the money he gave me since he finished high school is all here in these bundles. When he told me 'bout the _Fairchild Plantation_, I reckoned it was time to give it back to him; and, I don't reckon he'll marry the pretty doctor 'til he can give her a nice home like she deserves. This here money will let him do that," Earl explained. "When you finish countin' it, Mrs Brewster, I want you to deposit that money into Wade's new account with the other $5,000.00."

"Certainly, Earl."

"Is there enough for him to get his loan when the time comes?"

She reached over to pat his hand, smiling. "Yes, there is. You're a good man, Earl Kinsella."

He blushed, just like his son did whenever he received a compliment.

…

Zoe pulled AnnaBeth into her office after the shift change with Shelby. Brick took his wife out to lunch, while Zoe and AB ate the food she'd brought with her at Zoe's desk, since the practice was quiet until 2 o'clock.

"I need your help." Zoe announced, pouring two iced teas. She passed one to AnnaBeth.

"With what?" AB asked, handing her friend silverware wrapped in a cloth napkin.

"Having sex with Wade."

AB spat iced tea all over the desk. "What?!" she gasped.

Zoe grabbed the surgical cloth from her own coffee disaster that morning and mopped up the seeping liquid. "Wade won't have sex with me, and I need to convince him that he should. I tried this morning, but he blew me off."

"Did you take his pulse?"

"Frequently."

AB took two wrapped sandwiches from the basket on the floor. "Is there something, you know … wrong with IT?" she whispered.

"Nope," Zoe replied, biting into the roast beef and salad sandwich. Yum, horseradish.

"Would he tell you if he was … _impotent_?" AB asked doubtfully.

"Probably not, but he's not behaving like a man in his prime with a problem. It's not like I can't feel IT when we snuggle, he just won't DO anything with it," Zoe whined.

"Have you tried seducing him in naughty lingerie?" AnnaBeth said, "because that always works on Lavon."

Ew. "No, but I did try to vamp him this morning in my sexy black suit and red lipstick. He sent me off with some lame excuse about going to Mobile today, and two greasy, white handprints on my butt. I walked all over town this morning before Shelby pointed them out to me. I swear, I caught Dash DeWitt taking a photo of me with his phone, but I couldn't figure out why."

AB made an inquiring face. "Handprints?"

Zoe grimaced. "I blew the fuse box deliberately and while he was trying to fix it, I came out to vamp him. He must have had residue on his hands from the melted wires."

"Well you must have gotten it off, because I didn't see anything on your pants when I came in."

"I was wearing a skirt. It's at the cleaners. I just hope for Wade's sake they can remove the marks."

"Expensive?"

Zoe scowled. "Vintage Chanel."

AB hissed in sympathy. "Well, don't be too hard on him, Zoe. Our men are many things, but informed about women's clothes they're not."

"I know, but you'd think Wade would have learned after the incident with my white sandals and that raccoon."

"Short memory," AB said. "Now, how can I help you with the other thing?"

"Do you still have those handcuffs from Lemon Breeland's bachelorette party?"

AnnaBeth grinned. "Yes. What are you planning?"

Zoe grinned back. "Well –"

…

Zoe arrived home at a little before seven that evening. All the lights were on in the carriage house and Wade's place was dark. She remembered that he was making her dinner that night. She took her dry cleaning from the rear seat of the car, and climbed the stairs, AB's handcuffs hidden in her purse.

"Wade, I'm home," she called, as she entered the house. Whoa … that sounded somehow, '_right_'. The house smelled deliciously of chicken parmigiana, which was weird, because she didn't have a kitchen. Wade must have cooked it at the main house and brought it over.

He came out of the bathroom, drying his hands and walked over to cup her face. "Hi, baby, I missed you," he said, leaning down to capture her mouth in a passionate kiss that made her toes curl. Hmm, maybe seducing him wouldn't be as hard as she thought. "How was your day?" he asked when he released her.

"It was interesting. Do you notice anything about what I'm wearing, Wade?" she asked laying the dry cleaning over the back of a club chair.

"Um, pants."

"Was I wearing pants this morning, _Waaade_?" she asked, emphasizing his name.

His eyes widened. "Um, yes?" he squeaked. "Erm, I don't remember," he added quickly, hoping to divert her.

"Well, _Waaade_, let me remind you. I was wearing a skirt this morning. A very expensive, vintage, couture skirt."

He gulped. "Oh."

"Yes, and you left me with a parting gift – two of them," she said holding up her fingers. "You must have seen your … _handiwork_ as I left this morning?" she accused him. "I know half of BlueBell saw it before breakfast, and it was headline news on Dash DeWitt's blog this afternoon complete with photos!" she yelled. "What was that stuff, anyway, because it wouldn't come off and I had to rush to the cleaners. You'd better pray it comes out," she hissed, pointing her finger at him.

"Sorry," he said, hanging his head, and then he remembered that Zoe started it. "Hey, you were the one who blew the fuse this morning, doc; deliberately I might add. I'm not stupid, you know. You came out dressed to kill tryin' to seduce me. I was just teachin' you a lesson and I didn't know that skirt was so highfalutin' expensive. You _told me_ you weren't gonna be precious 'bout your clothes no more."

"Except for when it's Chanel and Louboutin!" she snarled.

"Well, how was I to know it was … whatever you called it … Channel?"

"Not channel – Chanel! French! Couture! Vintage!" she yelled.

They stared at each other, both fuming, and then Zoe began to giggle at the absurdity of their argument. "You don't know what the hell I'm talking about, do you?" she asked him.

He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "Not at all, doc. It was just a black suit, which you filled out nicely. I was more interested in lookin' at your boobs and your legs in those killer shoes, not to mention that red lipstick on your gorgeous mouth. You'll be happy to know that my face wore your marks all morning while I was in Mobile. I got more wolf whistles than a ten dollar hooker standin' on a corner. I didn't notice anything wrong 'til I used the john when I filled up with gas."

Zoe laughed and leaned forward to kiss him, leaving another mark on his mouth. "I forgive you, Wade, if you forgive me?"

He held her in the circle of his arms. "For tryin' to seduce me, even though I want to wait?"

"No. For the lipstick prints all over your face. I knew about them, and I could have said something, but I didn't because I was pissed that you wouldn't have sex with me," she admitted.

"Why is it so important to you, doc?" Wade asked, stroking her face.

She looked into his eyes. "I miss you, Wade … I miss making love with you; I miss sharing myself with you," she said honestly. "I _want_ to show you how much I love you, and I _want_ you to do the same, but you don't seem interested."

Wade's face softened. "Doc, I _want_ to make love with you, too, but I've learned some things from my past mistakes – sex doesn't solve our problems; it just covers them over until they come back to bite you in the ass, and I still think we have … things between us we need to settle."

"What things?" she asked, panicked.

"Shhsh. Not now, Zoe. We'll talk about them another time. They're not that important, but I have been curious about a couple of things I'd like answers to. But for tonight, I just want to have dinner with you and show you my surprises."

She pouted. "Tomorrow then. We talk about 'things' tomorrow, because I don't want to wait any longer and if I have to, well, then I'm going to spontaneously combust!"

He laughed. "Alright, tomorrow," he conceded. "Now, come this way, so I can show you surprise number one." He led her into the bathroom, stopping in front of the unused door. "Open it, doc; your surprise is inside."

"In the box room?" she clarified and he nodded. "Okay," she said, reaching out to push down on the door handle. It swung open and Wade hit a light switch on the bathroom wall.

"Surprise," he said.

Angels sang from on high as Zoe's eyes absorbed the wonder of her new walk-in closet. She stepped inside and turned slowly, taking in the hanging rods, the drawers and the cubby holes for purses and bags and accessories.

"Do you like it?" Wade asked timidly.

She nodded dumbly. "You built me a closet?" she cried excitedly.

"Yeah. There are some special cabinets on the back wall. I had to stack them to give you enough space, but I bought you a step stool so you can reach the high ones. The doors on the very top two cabinets open upwards and the rest of them open down. Take a look."

Zoe opened one of the cabinets at waist height. Inside was a pair of her shoes in a clear plastic box, and she grinned.

"Um, Shelby helped with the closet organization, since she's kind of an expert," Wade said, "and there's enough room for thirty pairs of shoes in the cabinets. Any more than that, and you'll have to stack the boxes on the high storage shelf that runs around the room."

Zoe leapt into his arms. "This is the very best gift anyone has _ever _given me. I thought the newspaper was it, but the closet trumps it completely. You are spoiling me, Wade Kinsella. But, this is too expensive. I want to pay you –"

His face fell. "Way to spoil the happy mood, doc," he gritted out. "The closet is a gift from me. I wouldn't have done it if I didn't want to. And just so you know, Lavon paid for the building supplies to refinish the room, but I built all of the fittings myself from timber I had on hand. The small expense for paint and hangers and plastic boxes was nothing."

Zoe bit her lip. "I'm sorry … I just worry about you spending your hard earned money on me when you're a new business owner."

"You _mean_ because I earn less than you do and prob'ly always will?"

She huffed. "No! Wade, you always do this." She growled, "Argh. You're the one who always worries about the differences in our earning power."

"Well, so do you, since you just offered to pay me!" He stormed out of the closet and into the bedroom. Maybe showing her the kitchen and laundry that night wasn't such a good idea. He strode into the entry hallway and leaned against the wall.

"Argh," Zoe yelled again, chasing after him and finding an empty room. "That's it. Walk away, like you always do!" she accused loudly.

His head popped around the door frame. "I haven't left, doc. I'm just takin' hold of my temper and wonderin' how you'll react to your second surprise. It's a bit bigger than the closet."

She sighed, her frustration waning. "You'd better show me then, and do it quick, 'cause the smell of dinner is making me drool and I need to eat. I promise not to talk out of turn or offer to pay you for a personal gift to me from you, if _you_ promise not to take offense every time I offer to pay for something we both use."

"I think I can do that," he said, "but if I suggest a 50/50 split, you have to agree to it – no arguments," he countered.

She narrowed her eyes. "What are you up to?"

He ignored her question. "Do we have an agreement or not?"

"Yes," she said reluctantly.

"Shake on it," he said, holding his hand out to spit on it.

She pointed a finger at him in warning. "Don't. You. Even. THINK. About. It!"

He grinned at her squeamishness. "It's not like we haven't shared spit before, doc. In fact, we've shared a lot more than that."

She whacked him in the stomach. "Don't be crude."

"No, ma'am." They shook hands, and then Wade pointed in the direction of the room at the foot of the stairs. "Your second surprise is through there."

"Door number two?" she quipped. She walked to the door and reached for the handle. "It's new … the door –"

"Yeah, I hung it today. Um, Zoe?" She looked up at Wade. "This is one of those surprises that's for both of us. Fair warning," he added, "Lavon played a hand in it, as well. A pretty big one."

She opened the door and froze, her mouth open. "Uh-uh," she stuttered, walking forward jerkily. "It's a kitchen," she said inanely.

"Yep, it is."

Zoe walked the length of the compact L shaped kitchen, noting the stainless steel appliances, the white cabinetry and the stone surfaces. "It's beautiful, but you remember I can't cook, don't you?"

Wade laughed, partly in relief and partly in response to Zoe's pithy humor. "Yes, but you _can_ make a salad and toast and open a can of fish. I'll teach you how to grill some meat and I know you know how to make coffee," he said, pointing to her espresso machine taking pride of place on the counter.

She sniffed the air. "Is that dinner I smell in the oven? And how can we run all of these appliances? It only took five of the small ones to blow the fuse this morning … Oops," she said, realizing what she'd just admitted.

"I knew it!" he challenged. She grinned saucily, unrepentant and he shook his head. "I replaced the fuse box with a new, bigger, better one. It's guaranteed not to blow with normal household usage, and yes, dinner is in the oven."

She grinned, happy that she could use her hairdryer _and_ make a cup of coffee at the same time. "Oh my God, is that a laundry?!" she gasped, rushing toward the nook at the end of the kitchen.

"Yes. We won't need to use Lavon's kitchen and laundry anymore, or go to the _Wash and Fold_. Do you like it all? Lavon and I thought you should be able to make yourself some food that isn't only crackers and apple slices."

She smiled and hugged him. "Yes, I like it. You can tell me all about it over dinner."

…

A/N: Photos for the chapter are on my blog at jkazziefanfiction dot wordpress dot com.

Thanks for reading. Please review and let me know what you think.


	8. Chapter 8 - Clearing the Air

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The CW is the author and owner of Hart of Dixie. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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AN: Thanks to everyone who took the time to review chapter 7. I will respond to reviews shortly - I've been a bit busy with work and writing.

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Chapter 8 – Clearing the Air

Zoe hung the last dress in her brand new, walk-in closet and stood back to admire her second favorite room in the carriage house – after her bathroom; she liked to take baths. She took a step back and gently collided with Wade's chest. His arms came around her body, his hands interlocking against her stomach. He rested his chin on her shoulder and Zoe sighed happily, relaxing into Wade's arms.

"You did good, babe," she said.

Wade viewed the small room that had not one spare inch of space for any of _his_ clothes after Zoe unpacked her four enormous suitcases.

"I left you a foot or so of space in the armoire in the bedroom," she said, uncannily reading his mind. "You can put some of your clothes in there." She turned in his arms and kissed him, thanking him again for her new closet.

"How magnanimous of you," he drawled, returning her kiss. She made a face and poked her tongue out, and then grinned, unrepentant.

"Yes, it _was_ generous of me, wasn't it? What time is it?"

Wade reached for her hand and drew her through the bathroom and into her bedroom. He checked his watch as he sat on the edge of Zoe's bed and pulled Zoe to stand between his legs. "It's after midnight –"

"Oh, good. Let's talk," she interrupted, sitting on his leg and wrapping an arm around his neck.

"About what?" Wade asked, a little slow on the uptake.

"About whatever it is you wanted to talk about that is stopping you from having sex with me," she chirped.

Wade rolled his eyes. Impatient Zoe. "When I said we'd talk tomorrow, doc, I meant in the daytime; not in the middle of the night when we're both tired and liable to say things we can't take back."

Zoe frowned. "That sounds like you think we're going to argue?"

"Well, we are Zade, doc – it's kinda what we do."

She grimaced at Wade's use of Dash DeWitt's moniker for their coupling. "Not you, too? Wade, that name is so stupid," she said irritably.

He shrugged. "If you can't beat 'em, then join 'em, doc. Dash has the entire town referring to us as Zade. I much prefer it to the alternative of Zorge."

She scowled. "Yeah, okay – me, too. Now talk," she demanded.

Wade gently pushed Zoe off his knee and onto the bed, standing up to stride across the room. He stopped and turned in front of the door to the bathroom, his hands on his hips. "Zoe, I really –"

"Speak!"

Wade rolled his eyes and gave in. Zoe wasn't going to drop it, short of him leaving the carriage house and returning to his own place, which he really didn't want to do. "Okay, but in the living room," he said, gesturing toward the grouping of lounge furniture around the coffee table. When they settled onto the couch; each in their separate corners, Wade began …

"Okay, my two remaining questions relate to New York."

"What about it? I'm not going back; well, maybe for a visit, but that's about it –"

"That's not what I meant," Wade interrupted. He exhaled heavily and rubbed his head. He _really_ didn't want to get into this tonight.

"You remember when we talked before and I said you were the only woman for me?" She nodded. "Well, I don't know if you realize this, but I haven't … been with another woman since that night."

Zoe didn't know whether to smile at the confirmation of Wade's monogamy, even though they weren't officially together then; or scowl at the reminder of his cheating – it still hurt, and probably would cause a twinge of pain for a long time to come.

"I figured that," she said softly, choosing to smile, "and Lavon and AnnaBeth pretty much implied it, but it's nice to get confirmation."

He smiled back. "Yeah, it is," he said, and waited expectantly.

Zoe waited for him to continue, completely missing Wade's silent inquiry until he raised a brow and gestured for her to respond further, mumbling, "Jonah," under his breath. It dawned on her what Wade was waiting for – God, she was clueless sometimes!

"Oh! Oh, yeah. Um, Jonah Breeland tried to hit on me more than once – he turned up at the wedding in New York," she admitted. "I let him stay as my uninvited escort, but nothing happened between us – not that he didn't try," Zoe confessed, noting Wade's relief. "But, I wasn't interested in taking it any further. You were right when you said I dallied with him because of his reputation as a player who would never commit. I decided I didn't want to be just another notch on Jonah Breeland's bedpost."

Wade's tense shoulders relaxed. "I'm glad to hear that, doc. I've got no right to expect that you hadn't gotten involved with someone else, but –" he trailed off when Zoe's face colored guiltily and she looked away. He gritted his teeth and felt a muscle tic angrily beside his mouth.

"That's not entirely true, Wade," Zoe said softly. She reached out with her hand to touch him, but pulled back nervously, unsure how he would react. "I did meet someone in New York. His name is Joel Stevens and he's an author. I met him at a PR event my mother arranged – a gallery show for an up-and-coming abstract artist – horrible stuff," she said offhandedly, "and my Mom was courting Joel as a new client."

Wade stood abruptly. "Zoe, I don't know if I want to hear this!" He held the back of his neck, wanting to escape the carriage house. He knew talking about this tonight was a bad idea. "I know I said that I wanted to know, but I've changed my mind." He headed for the door, halting at the aperture when Zoe called out to him desperately.

"Wade, wait! It's not what you think. Let me finish – please!" He stood stiffly, with his back to Zoe and she realized just how insecure he still was: about her; their relationship and their future. "I went on a few dates with Joel and we had pleasant time. We had things in common; a lot like George and I did, but that's _all_ it ever was. I swear," she said, imploring him to believe her. His stance in the door frame relaxed a bit, and Zoe continued.

"We shared a few kisses, but there was no spark between us and I was still hung up on you. We both decided we were better friends than a couple and we saw each other at a handful of social events. He was my escort to a charity ball for the hospital, and I ran interference for him at his high school reunion, but that's all. The last time I saw him, he was holed up in his apartment writing his next book."

Wade turned around and took a few tentative steps back into the room. "Really?"

"Really."

"I can't help but be jealous," he admitted, a little ashamed.

"Neither can I," Zoe agreed, getting up from the sofa to walk toward him. "But we both have friends of the opposite sex and we need to accept that, or else we're going to go crazy. You're still friendly with Tansy and you're friends with AB. You have a friendship and professional relationship with Lemon and even with Lily Anne Lonergan. And I … well, I have male friends," she said, ticking them off her fingers, "Lavon, Joel, Brick and hopefully one day, George Tucker again." Wade scowled. "My point is, we work with, socialize with, and confide in people of either gender. It doesn't mean _anything_ other than what it looks like – friendship."

Wade contemplated Zoe's words. "You can spin anything, can't you, doc?" He grinned playfully.

"Pretty much," she said, her heart fluttering in relief. "I learnt it at my mother's knee. She was the one who convinced Lavon to make that jock itch commercial," she confided.

Wade burst into laughter. "No way?!" Zoe nodded in confirmation, waggling her eyebrows. "Huh. Well, it's good to know that Candice Hart is good for somethin' other than hatin' on me," he quipped.

"Lavon swore me to secrecy, so you can't say anything," Zoe said. She reached up and traced Wade's nose. "And Mom doesn't hate you; she's your biggest advocate. She thinks you're perfect for me."

"She does not!" Wade said in disbelief.

"Yep, she does," Zoe said, yawning widely.

"Okay, time for bed, doc." Zoe opened her mouth to object, but Wade cut her off. "We can finish our talk later. We're both beat and I need to work the breakfast shift at the Rammer Jammer in the morning."

Wade was leading Zoe toward the bed when there came a loud rapping at her front door.

"Who the hell is that at one in the morning?" Wade said; annoyance in his voice. "You get ready for bed, doc, while I get rid of whoever that is."

"No, it might be a medical emergency," she said, pushing past Wade to open the front door of the carriage house.

Lemon Breeland stood on her porch, breathing fire. "You!" she spat, pushing her way inside. Zoe was so surprised that she stepped backward right into the circle of Wade's arms. Hadn't she and Lemon played this scene once before?

"What the hell is going on here, Lemon?! And why are you bangin' on Zoe's door in the middle of the night?" Wade demanded protectively.

Lemon wielded a sheet of printed paper in her hand. It flapped loudly as she gesticulated wildly. "This is why!" she said shrilly. "Dash DeWitt's blog. It seems that Zoe Hart is only back three weeks and already she's spreading baseless rumors. I know we aren't the best of friends, Zoe Hart, but you've got no call to be saying things like this. What about your Hippocratic oath to do no harm?"

"Actually, the modern American oath doesn't say that. You're quoting the English translation of the original –"

"So _not_ the time, doc," Wade scolded her quietly.

"Oh, right – Lemon, I don't know what you're referring to," Zoe said, getting back on track with the blonde's latest accusation.

"Then let me refresh your memory," she said, snapping the page. _"Well, bloggers, there's some talk in town about a certain blonde of some repute who may or may not be in the family way. And, it seems that our town doctor may know something about it …"_

"Oh, no," Zoe gasped.

"Geez, doc," Wade muttered.

"Oh, yes!" Lemon countered shrilly. _"Rumor has it [loose talk at the Butter Stick] that the reason for her less than salubrious mood of late has something to do with a new secret lover who's apparently put a [lemon] bun in her oven! What will her daddy say? Who is the mysterious lover and when exactly will our newest resident be making an appearance in BlueBell? Sometime over the spring I'd guess …" _

Lemon lowered the page looking like she was going to cry. "It goes on with some other rubbish, but that was the gist of it." Her voice hitched. "Why, Zoe? Why did you do it?"

Zoe was crestfallen. "Lemon, I didn't mean – um, as much as I don't like you at the moment, I'd never spread a baseless rumor like that about you or anyone."

"Then how –"

"Please sit down, Lemon, and I'll tell you what I know," Zoe said, sighing. Wade shot her a glance of exasperation. Lemon sat in a club chair while Zoe sat beside Wade on the couch. "This morning when I was getting breakfast at the Butter Stick – you remember, don't you, Lemon? You were sniggering openly about my clothes –"

"Yes, is that why Dash DeWitt implied you were his source? Were you trying to get back at me?" she asked impatiently. "Because if that was the reason, I will ruin you in Alabama –"

"Lemon, shut up and let Zoe explain!" reprimanded Wade. "I know you're often savant-like about this type of stuff, but you're jumping to conclusions."

"Thank you, Wade," Zoe said. "Lemon, I _was_ annoyed with you, and I asked Agnes what your problem was. She mentioned the rumor about your 'secret lover' and commented that perhaps your mood of late was due to pregnancy. I warned her against gossiping and pointed out that we didn't know anything. She agreed not to speak of it again, and that was the end of it. I really don't believe that Agnes would have repeated the story to anyone else – she's not the type, and I never gave it another thought."

Lemon's eyes narrowed. "No, but Dash DeWitt did, and he was in the Butter Stick yesterday morning."

"He must have overheard you and Agnes," Wade posited.

"That seems likely," Zoe agreed. "Now I understand why he chased me across town square for a photo of your handiwork - he saw me there."

Lemon's eyes narrowed maliciously. "That man!" she spat.

"Yes. He's intent on causing as much trouble as possible," Zoe observed. "I used to be fond of Dash DeWitt, but I'm developing a real dislike for his trouble-making ways."

"Well I for one refuse to be the butt of his public gossiping. I'm going to sue that portly tittle-tattle for everything he owns. No one makes a fool of Lemon Breeland!" she cited with determination.

"No, you do enough of that on your own," Zoe couldn't resist retorting. "Have you apologized to AnnaBeth yet?"

Lemon blushed guiltily. "I'm sure I don't know what you're referring to," she said, refusing to admit her culpability.

"Really?" Zoe scoffed. "You don't think your scathing comments to AB at _Alice's Closet_ are worth an apology? Do you have _any_ actual friends left, Lemon? I refer to those who aren't sycophantic Belles unable to think for themselves unless you give them their cues."

Lemon glared, but remained otherwise silent.

"What has gotten into you lately, Lemon?" Zoe asked. "I mean, you were always scathing about me, and that's okay – I can take it – but AnnaBeth is … _was_ your best friend. You hurt her deeply and for no good reason other than she wants to be my friend too and you can't stand that."

Lemon shrugged. "I don't answer to you, Zoe Hart!"

Wade interjected. "Perhaps not, Lemon, but as my equal business partner, you do answer to me. For months now, you've been increasingly surly and angry and just plain miserable and you're takin' out your misery on everyone around you, includin' the customers. Do you know how much interference I've had to run for you? Not to mention the roughly thousand dollars in free meals I've given away in an effort to apologize for your behavior – that's comin' out of your share of this quarters profits, by the way."

Lemon opened her mouth and closed it again. "I'll try to do better," she promised finally in a small voice. They weren't wrong about her, but the reason was her shame to bear and she had her reputation and the sanctity of the Breeland name to protect. But it looked like both were fast flowing down the commode thanks to Dash's gossipy blog. God only knows what her father was going to say.

"Don't do better, Lemon, get over whatever the problem is, or at least talk to someone about it," Wade counseled.

"If you apologize to AnnaBeth and mean it, you could talk to her," Zoe pointed out. "She's the most forgiving person I know."

"Doc," Wade shook his head, "drop it will, ya. Talk to _me_, Lemon. Let _me_ return the favor you did me after Zoe left for the summer." Zoe gasped. "What, doc? You don't think I _needed_ someone to lean on while you were gone all that time? For a long while, Lemon was the only person who knew I'd declared my love for you, and she was the only one who knew you left me anyway!" he accused.

Zoe looked uncomfortable arguing with Lemon Breeland in the room, but Wade lost sight of his discretion in his tiredness and the fact that _this_ was the very topic that was holding him back from fully committing to Zoe. She wanted everything out in the open? Well, Lemon Breeland was part of it, and out in the open it would be.

"You ignored me for three months, Zoe!" Wade reminded her. "It hurt. I know I said I'd give you the time you needed, but did you have to take me so literally, especially when I tried to stay in contact with you. You have no idea how many times I nearly hopped on a plane to New York City – only Lemon talked me out of it. You couldn't send me a text message or reply to my occasional emails? God knows, I tried to leave you alone, but I couldn't –"

Zoe scoffed. "Occasional emails? Leave me alone? Wade, you didn't even try! You sent me _sixty-two_ – count them – _sixty-two_ email messages! How was that giving me space? I felt hunted. Any normal person would have given up after I ignored the first two!" she said angrily. "I needed the time away to come to terms with what happened," she reminded him, "and you agreed."

Wade stood up to glare down at Zoe. She leapt to her feet to stand toe-to-toe with him. "At least now I know how you really feel," Wade spat. "And I didn't agree; you gave me no choice. Out of sight, out of mind, hey, doc? Well that's just fabulous. How's about I just leave now and save you the trouble of askin' me to give you some space – again!"

"Wait, Wade! That's not what I meant."

"That's what it sounded like to me!" he yelled, on his way to the door. He stomped passed Lemon who sat listening to their argument with fascination. "And it wasn't _sixty-two_ emails, Zoe – it was two. _TWO!_" Wade yelled as a parting shot.

She followed him out the door onto the porch. She could see the top of Wade's blonde head under the light of the moon as he strode around the pond toward the gatehouse. "Then who else do you know with the email address of wadekinsella at rammerjammer dot com," Zoe yelled after him, "because _sixty_ of them came from him!"

Burt Reynolds hissed at her from his perch on her bottom porch step. "What are you looking at?" Zoe spat at the reptile. He blinked and hissed again, crawling away to swim leisurely across the pond toward Wade's place. "Of course, you'd be on his side!" she yelled. "Stupid alligator." Zoe came huffing back into the living room, slamming the front door behind her.

A person could cut the air in the carriage house with a knife, it was so thick. "How you two are ever going to make it to your fiftieth anniversary let alone a wedding ceremony is beyond me," Lemon remarked, breaking the silence. "I think I'll be going, now."

"Who said anything about getting married?" Zoe asked, flopping onto the couch. "We can't even hit a home run and we've been back together for three weeks."

Lemon rolled her eyes, gathering up her discarded purse and her copy of the _Blawker_. "Why else would you come back to BlueBell unless you planned on making a life with Wade Kinsella? I know it wasn't for George Tucker – you've made that perfectly clear."

Zoe used a hand to prop up her chin as she stared morosely at nothing particular in the room. "No, I didn't come back for George Tucker, but I am concerned about him. Wade … Wade said he's changed."

Lemon's face tightened. "Yes, he has, and that _is_ your fault, Zoe Hart. George came back from touring with Lily Anne Lonergan and tried to reconcile with Tansy, but she wouldn't have anything to do with him. How does it feel to ruin a man's life twice in twelve months?"

Zoe looked up. "It feels pretty shitty, Lemon," she admitted quietly, "but I'll only accept responsibility for his break up with Tansy. I _did not_ influence George to leave you at the altar. He chose you – he made that clear to me – and I moved on – with Wade. George's decision at the eleventh hour _not_ to marry you is all on him."

Lemon inclined her head. "I'll concede to you on that point, Zoe, since I happen to agree with you – at least in part –"

Footsteps stomping on Zoe's porch followed by the slamming of her front door interrupted their conversation. Wade stepped into the living room holding out his hand. "_What_ email address?" Zoe repeated it back to him tersely. "That ain't my email address," he said.

Lemon began shifting nervously toward the door, edging past Wade. "I'll be going, now. Wade, I will see you at the Rammer Jammer in the morning. Goodnight."

He reached out and caught her arm. "Not so fast, Lemon. It seems to me that the email address the doc quoted is mighty similar to yours. What do you know about that?"

She shrugged. "Why would I know anything about your email address?" she evaded, trying to free herself from Wade's firm grip.

"Because _you_ do most of the paperwork at the Rammer Jammer, Lemon, and _you_ impersonating me to email Zoe is somethin' you'd do."

"Don't be ridiculous!" she denied shrilly, "and let go of me, Wade Kinsella. I am not one of those women who enjoy being manhandled," she said, staring pointedly at Zoe.

"Hey!" Zoe objected to Lemon's inference.

"Maybe if you were, you'd be in a better mood," Wade clipped out, but nonetheless, he released Lemon from his hold. "Spill, Lemon. I can find out for myself, but it'd be better for you if you come clean on your own, 'cause I know for a fact that I only sent the doc two emails and I sent 'em from my Gmail account."

Zoe stepped closer to Wade. "Yeah, that's right. The first two emails _were_ from a Gmail account. When did the Rammer Jammer get its own email domain?" They both stared at Lemon expectantly.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, alright! I registered our new domain at the start of the summer, and yes I set up email addresses for both of us." Zoe and Wade crossed their arms over their chests, waiting for Lemon to continue. "She was ignoring you, Wade, and you were so miserable. I had to do something!" Lemon admitted, waving her arm at Zoe.

"That was _my_ business, Lemon, and I had my own reasons for staying silent – at least for some of the time," Zoe rebuked. "So let me see if I understand this? Wade, you sent me two emails and, Lemon, you sent me sixty emails while impersonating Wade?"

Lemon shrugged unapologetically. "Yes."

"You are a nutcase, Lemon Breeland," Wade accused. "I thought Zoe here was certifiably insane, but you run a close second –"

Zoe and Lemon gasped. "Hey!" Zoe objected, punching Wade in the arm. "I am perfectly normal," protested Lemon.

Wade scoffed. "Not in any rational world, you're not. I reckon I can get a two-for-one padded cell at the sanitarium up there in Tuscaloosa –"

"Shut up!" Zoe whined, while Lemon stamped her foot.

"Look, just go home, Lemon," Wade said tiredly. "We'll talk about this more tomorrow. I trust you haven't been sending emails from me to anyone else I should know about."

"No – just Zoe."

"Let's go," he said, escorting Lemon out to her car.

She stepped into her red sports car and inserted the ignition key, starting the engine. It purred expensively as it idled. "I'm really sorry, Wade. I was only trying to help you."

He realized that was her intention, but it didn't make her actions right. "How?"

"I figured if I could convince Zoe to talk to you … or to come home, then maybe you'd cheer up and be more like the old Wade Kinsella."

Wade shut Lemon's car door with a soft thwack. "I don't want to be the old Wade, Lemon. I'm not interested in being a manwhore no more. I love Zoe Hart – every single crazy, neurotic inch of her."

"I didn't mean your reputation with women, Wade. I meant your personality. You used to be fun and carefree, but ever since Zoe stomped all over your heart, you've been different and not in a good way. All you did over the summer was work and you treated me like an annoyance – like a mosquito bite you wished was gone, and I-I wanted the old Wade back. The Wade who believed in me and was willing to be my business partner even though I bossed you around. You know more about running a bar than I ever will, but you were willing to take a chance on me. No one has ever done that before – not in a business sense," Lemon declared.

Wade sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "I know your heart was in the right place, Lemon, but you can't interfere in my relationship with Zoe again. And you _are_ a great business partner when you ain't bossin' me around," he added, making her smile wanly. "You've got some great ideas for improvements and you're really talented at gettin' in the best bands. I can't imagine ownin' the Rammer Jammer with anyone else 'cept you."

She reached out and squeezed his hand resting on the open window. "Thank you, Wade. That means a lot to me."

Wade nodded, stepping back as Lemon put the car in gear. "Talk to someone 'bout whatever it is that's botherin' you, Lemon. And clear the air with Lavon and AnnaBeth – you really _do_ owe her an apology. True friends are hard to come by in this world. Don't let her go 'cause you're too stubborn to admit you were wrong."

"I will. Goodnight, Wade."

He stood back and watched her drive away until her tail-lights disappeared into the darkness. Walking over to the porch, Wade stepped over the dozing reptile on the bottom step. "Beat it, Burt. Go find yourself a lady friend – you're making Zoe nervous hangin' around here so much." Wade watched Burt slither away and then he went inside and locked up, too tired to go back to his own place. He found Zoe asleep on the couch – not unsurprising since it was nearly three in the morning.

Turning off the overhead lights, Wade scooped Zoe up and carried her to bed by the light of her bedside lamp. Pulling back the covers, he laid her between the sheets and removed her jeans to make her more comfortable. Undressing and crawling in beside her, he pulled up the covers and reached over her prone body to switch off the light. Zoe rolled toward him and he curled himself around her tiny body, falling asleep to the sound of her gentle snoring.

…

A/N: Thanks for reading. Please leave a review – they keep me writing. I am now posting on AO3 under the same pen-name if you prefer reading on that site.

I don't know whether there is a psychiatric institution in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, so I made it up.


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